


Wrapped Up In Clover

by FestiveFerret



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - After College/University, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst and Feels, Awkwardness, Background Winterhawk, Breaking Up & Making Up, College Roommates, Domestic, Falling In Love, Happy Ending, M/M, Pining, Pining For Your Ex, Stuck with your ex, Thrown Together, Underage Drinking, Weddings, friend's wedding, room sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-01 08:49:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 54,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15139493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FestiveFerret/pseuds/FestiveFerret
Summary: It's been seven years since Steve and Tony split up, and Steve's sure he'll never see Tony again. He's finally managed to put their failed relationship behind him and move on, focusing on his friends and building his business. But then his best friends, Bucky and Clint, decide to get married, and their wedding week at a cabin resort in Vermont turns into a minefield of heartbreak for Steve.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ishipallthings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishipallthings/gifts).



> For ishipallthings! I decided to combine two of your prompts for this one because why write one story when you can write two-in-one, right? :P I hope you like it!! <3
> 
> Thank you to my secret beta who I'll reveal after creator reveals!
> 
> (Title from Etta James' At Last)

####  **~~ Now ~~**

"The van's going to be here in like two minutes, Stevie."

"Like one minute," Clint amended from the other room.

"I know, I know!" Steve tornadoed around his room, throwing things in his bag. If he hadn't spent all morning working on his gift for Bucky and Clint, he would've had time to pack. Bucky poked a finger in the large flat plastic bag that held said gift, and Steve whacked his hand away as he zipped by. "Don't you have something to do besides hovering around making me nervous?"

"You go faster when you're nervous. Besides, I'm efficient, but not so efficient that I could fit a quickie in two minutes."

"One minute!" Cling called cheerfully from the other room.

"It's already been one minute!" Bucky yelled back.

"Well, then it's one minute left now."

Bucky groaned. "You know maybe an angry quickie is exactly what I need right now." He set off towards the living room.

Steve grabbed his duffle and the handles of the big plastic carrier in one hand, snagged the back of Bucky's hood in the other and made for the front door, dragging Bucky along behind him. "I'm ready! Let's go!"

"Aww," Clint whined. "Where's my quickie?"

"In the car!" Bucky called out as Steve tumbled him out of the apartment and down the stairs. 

The driver was, in fact, already here, standing next to the back door of the van, waiting politely. 

"No sex in the car," Steve said firmly, and the driver blanched. 

"But it's my wedding," Clint said, thumping an enormous suitcase down the front steps of the apartment building. Bucky wriggled out of Steve's hold to go help him. 

"It won't be if we never get there because -" Steve leaned over to read the driver's nametag "- Peter and I kicked you out on the highway for public indecency."

"Wouldn't be the first time." Bucky and Clint shared a look that was 50% too heated and 300% too mischievous. 

Steve shoved them both towards the car. "Let's go!"

It took more shoving, grumbling, and reorganizing than seemed necessary to get all of them and their stuff settled in the van, but eventually, they were on the road. It was three hours to the airport in Hartford to pick up Natasha and her date, then two and half more hours on to the venue. Steve tugged his headphones out of his pack and slid them on, turning up his music and drowning out Bucky and Clint's affectionate bickering. He took out his sketchbook and drew random curving lines in it as the mile markers flew by.

It wasn't that he was sad that Bucky and Clint were getting married, completely the opposite. He was over the moon for them. He loved both of them so much it made him want to scream, and seeing them together, knowing they were going to be happy and have each other forever? That was the best thing in the world.

But it hurt a little bit too.

He couldn't help thinking about what he could have had. There was a time when he thought he'd be the one sending out invitations, bringing his family together - what little of it he had left - planning the rest of his life with - 

Well.

He swallowed hard against a rising lump in his throat and curled up facing the van window, knees braced on the back of the seat in front of him. If Clint and Bucky noticed him moping, they'd be all over him, trying to cheer him up. But all he had to do was hold out until the airport, and then, with Nat and her new boyfriend in the car, the annoying twins would have plenty to occupy themselves with, torturing the new guy. There was nothing quite as absorbing as fresh meat, and that would mean Steve was off the hook until they got to the cabin and there was enough going on that no one would notice one slightly grumpy best man hiding in the trees. He just had to hope that they'd keep each other occupied until then.

Steve sighed with relief when Clint hauled out the rooming chart again. That would last at least an hour. Steve traded his sketchbook for his work notebook and tried to jot down ideas, but his focus was tenuous at best. 

He'd known this was going to happen, but he'd hoped it would hold off until closer to the actual wedding to hit. Spending the morning buried deep in a project he'd had all week to finish instead of packing might have been a bit more emotional avoidance than he'd really realized at the time. 

The plastic-wrapped canvas in the trunk called to him. He wanted to crawl back inside it and get lost in the pencil strokes and forget everything else. It was going to take a painful amount of energy to be cheerful and friendly with everyone instead of moping around and snapping and being awful. But Clint and Bucky deserved a Steve at his best, celebrating their big day. How shitty would he feel if he looked back on this week and only remembered how sad he'd been?

But was the best way to manage that to shove it down? Or process his terrible feelings now and get them out of the way?

Or, instead of focusing on how upsetting it was going to be to watch his two best friends get married when he'd missed his chance at happiness, he could stress about being Bucky's best man and all of the pressures inherent in that. The rings were in the bottom of his bag, he could feet the case through the side pocket, so that was one thing he wouldn't have to panic about.

Other than that, as far as he knew, his role was mostly to stand around and try not to burst into tears while Bucky and Clint said sappy things to each other. Apparently, they were going to write their own vows, and Steve hoped he'd get a chance to read them before he had to keep a straight face through the ceremony. 

The rooming chart lasted Bucky and Clint an hour and fifteen minutes then they rounded on Steve with only forty-five minutes left to go to safety. 

"Hey, Stevie? Do you think Clint's uncle should get the lake-facing room instead of Barney?"

Steve tugged his earbuds out with a sigh. "I don't even know Clint's uncle."

"Yeah, and you don't like Barney," Clint pointed out.

"Good point." Steve nodded. "Give the lake room to Clint's uncle."

"But then Barney has to be in the back cabin." Bucky threw his hands up and slumped back in his chair. "We should just toss all the room keys in a bucket and have them dive for them at a starter pistol."

Steve snorted, wanting to ask which room he'd ended up with but not wanting to set off another cascade of panic. His role in this was to be useful, accommodating, welcoming, and supportive. That's what Bucky needed from his best man, and that's what they both needed from their friend and roommate. Steve could do it. He just needed to find a corner to carefully lock away his feelings about -

That.

Bucky shoved away the chart, arguing quietly with Clint about whether they were going to spend the whole car ride planning, then finally kissing him quiet when Clint tried to argue back. The charts were put away, and Steve set aside his sketchbook, letting himself get sucked into conversation. 

"Looking forward to some time off work?" Clint asked.

Steve twirled his pencil between his fingers. He thought about the stack of projects waiting on his computer at home and the laptop he'd hidden in his bag while Bucky was distracted trying to peek at his gift. If the wedding stuff really became overwhelming, he could always find a corner with an outlet and squirrel himself away with one of his websites. He shrugged. "Sure. It's different, I think, when you own your own business. I know no one's going to get my stuff done while I'm gone, but it'll be nice not to stress about answering emails for a week. And Sam's got everything covered for a few more days."

Bucky elbowed him. "When was the last time you took a vacation anyway?"

Steve's lips twitched, but he tried to get them under control before Bucky noticed. Buck always said Steve had a "constipated look" that meant he was thinking about -

Bucky noticed; Steve saw when he did. He said, "oh," and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. The last time Steve had been on vacation was a weekend getaway when he was 25. Three days of bliss in a cottage upstate, caught in a thunderstorm so bad they hadn't had power the entire time. Only now it was tainted…

"It'll be great," Steve said weakly. "I'm looking forward to the lake and stuff. And seeing everyone."

Clint bounced in his seat. "I can't  _ wait  _ to see Nat. Skype is not good enough. How dare she move to the other side of the country. It's been  _ torture." _

Steve chuckled. "I'm sure she's just as excited to see you."

"I'm just terrified of what she got us as a gift." Bucky eyed Clint suspiciously, but his fiance just shrugged.

"Um. We're almost here. Which terminal is she coming in at?" Peter the driver asked, and there was a brief scuffle while Bucky and Clint argued over the answer.

"Just check the email!" Steve finally snapped, and Bucky dug his phone out.

"Oh, all the arrivals come in at the same one," Bucky explained. He leaned up between the seats to talk Peter through navigating the pickup lanes.

Steve found himself getting nervous about meeting Natasha's new boyfriend. He hadn't seen her in a couple of years, and last time he had, she'd been single. Anyone willing to date Nat had to be pretty tough - she was a steamroller of a person - and Steve was both intrigued and uncertain about meeting the mystery man. Or woman, he supposed. Nat had just checked off,    
"And guest" without a name. When her RSVP card had come in, there'd been more than a little speculation about who it could be. Bucky insisted that Clint, as her best friend, should know, but he swore up and down that he didn't, that Nat hadn't said she was dating anyone. But it had been a few weeks since he'd talked to her, and no one had found the time to get the skinny. Steve had started an email to her no less than eleven times, but each time, he'd been pulled away, and by the time he went back to finish it, everything in his life had changed and he had to start over.

He regretted it now though, not just because of the mystery plus one, but because he really loved Natasha and he'd hate to fall out of touch with her. This wedding was a chance to get close to her again, though. As the two best men - er, best people - they'd be together for a solid part of the wedding week. Steve was looking forward to it. He hoped this new partner wasn't going to claim too much of her time.

The van finally found the right pickup lane, and Steve and Clint craned forward to see Nat's red hair come into view. 

Steve's stomach flip-flopped at the sight of her, rocketed back into a past life. He vibrated in his seat, eager to shoot out of the van and hug her, but of course, Clint got there first. The van pulled up to the curb and Clint exploded out of the doors and collided with Nat, gathering her, laughing, in his arms. 

Steve and Bucky tumbled out afterwards, and while Bucky moved to grab their luggage and tetris it in the back with the rest, Steve stepped forward to introduce himself to Nat's beau. 

But he didn't have to.

The dark-haired man straightened from where he'd been rummaging through his bag and turned to face Steve. His eyes went wide and all the blood drained out of his face.  "Steve," he said, softly, and it didn't sound right, coming out of his mouth. A mouth that Steve had kissed, lips he'd stroked with the pad of his thumb, curled together in the bed they'd shared. His voice, roughed with stress but still the same. Steve would know that voice anywhere, heard it in his dreams still, a rough whisper in his ear, fingers squeezing his heart. It wasn't right to hear his name said so reverently in the same voice that had broken his heart seven years ago.

"Tony..."

 

####  **~~ Then ~~**

"But I like it like this," Steve insisted, feeling the childish whine colouring his tone but unable to stop it. 

"I know, pal, I like it too, but liking don't pay the rent. We've got the extra room, we need someone paying to use it."

Steve sighed and twirled his drafting pencil around his finger. "Yeah… I know. What if he turns out to be a serial killer though?"

Bucky muttered something that sounded an awful lot like "Then at least I won't have to listen to you whining anymore," and walked out of the room with his phone. Steve heard his low voice rumbling through the walls, and when he came back, he was smiling. "This dude sounds cool. A bit full of himself, maybe, but it also sounds like he'd be out a lot. I said we'd meet him here at four tomorrow for a tour."

"Alright…"

"Steve."

"No, I know." Steve threw both his hands up in concession. "We need it. I'm not - You're right. I just wish we didn't have to, is all."

Bucky ruffled Steve's hair as he walked past, earning himself a smack on the shoulder. Steve packed up his bag and started the trek to his evening class. When he arrived, Sharon had her bag on Steve's seat, holding it for him.

"Hey, Steve, how are you?" Sharon was copying out her econ notes. Taking business accounting as an elective had not been a good idea for Steve, but thankfully Sharon was dragging Steve along towards a passing grade. And it was always useful for designers to know how to run their own businesses. 

"We're interviewing roommates," Steve said, sinking into his seat with a sigh. "Got one lined up tomorrow. You still sure you don't need a place?"

"Nope, I love my apartment. Sorry. Maybe it'll be good, though? Maybe the new guy will be cool."

Steve shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe he'll be loud and demanding and never do his dishes."

Sharon blinked at him. "You just described Bucky, who you have lived with for what? Five years?"

"Yeah, but one's enough, thanks."

Sharon snorted. 

Steve was distracted all the way through class which was especially bad when the content was so consistently over his head. He was sure this information would be valuable to him someday, most artists ended up self-employed at some point at least - but it was hard to make himself care, especially with the pressure of a new roommate looming overhead. 

Sharon could tell, because she offered to email him extra notes, and he thanked her before hitting the street again. He stopped at a deli and got sandwiches for him and Bucky for dinner. 

"It feels like the end of an era," Bucky said around a mouthful of roast beef while they watched the game that night. 

"I know."

"You'll have to stop leaving your sex toys all over the apartment," Bucky said, snatching one of Steve's pallet knives up off the table. 

Steve smacked him with a pillow. 

"Tomorrow at four" came faster than Steve wanted it to. He spent the morning working on his homework, attempting to tackle his imaginary balance sheets until his brain felt like it was overheating then moving on to a project for Theory of Design. The knock on the door startled him out of his focus. 

Bucky tossed his book aside and hopped up to answer the door. Steve heard them talking and then a moment later Bucky appeared with the applicant. Steve stood to shake his hand. 

"Hey. Welcome, I'm Steve."

The man's handshake was firm, almost too firm, like he was trying to prove something. "Hey. Brock. Nice place."

"Thanks."

"Bit small." Brock looked around at the space. The front door opened directly to stairs that led up to the apartment. The living room came first, a crate backed up against the stair railing with a TV on top surrounded by a long couch, a coffee table, and a big, squishy armchair. Behind it was the kitchen, a table with four chairs against the back of the couch dividing the space. Along the inner wall were the doors to the three bedrooms and the one bathroom. It was simple, but it was home.

"Well, it's Brooklyn," Steve said.

Brock shrugged. "Yeah, I'm moving up from DC. Got transferred at work."

_ Well, he has a job,  _ Steve thought, flicking his eyes over to Bucky.  _ At least he can make rent.  _

Brock gestured behind him. "So that lady downstairs is smoking. One of you tapping that?"

"Ah, no." Steve resisted the urge to curl his lip. "She has a girlfriend."

Brock muttered something under his breath that Steve found he was glad he couldn't hear. 

"Come see the room," Bucky said and Brock followed him in. Bucky's room was closest to the stairs, and Steve's was near the kitchen, next to the bathroom. The free room was in the middle. 

Brock examined it, seemingly pleased. "Yeah, it's good." He stepped out and, uninvited, poked his head in each of the other bedrooms. "You guys not up for switching?"

"No." Bucky leaned back to give Steve a look behind his back. Steve rolled his eyes like  _ I know, right?  _

"That's cool." Brock turned back to face them, and Steve gestured towards the couch. 

"Beer?"

"Sure."

Steve got everyone a drink then sat down at the other end of the couch while Bucky took the chair. They ran through the basic questions. Brock had a roommate before, in DC, it had ended well, reference was fine. He went to bed early, got up early, and preferred a quiet environment. 

"I mean, like, have a party, it's cool, but not on like a Wednesday, you know?"

"Yeah that's fine," Bucky said. "We're pretty quiet."

"You don't cook a lot of like… ethnic food, do you?" Brock asked, nose curled. "I'm just really sensitive to some smells so like, normal food is fine, but if you use a lot of weird spices or something I get all stuffed up." 

Steve resisted the urge to grab the guy and shove him out the door. Everything was laced through with this mild, controlling aggression, and it was putting Steve's hackles up. Not to mention that he was quickly careening through all the casual -isms and they'd only known him for about half an hour.  

Brock never saved himself. He dropped snide comments about the state of the kitchen and bathroom (which Bucky and Steve had left ever so slightly messy to weed out the neat freaks), he made unpleasant comments about how nice it was that "the neighbourhood was improving" and he no longer felt like he "was about to get mugged around here." He spouted a list of increasingly crazed demands, highlighted his own needs whenever possible, and the one time Steve started talking about a show he liked, Brock interrupted him right away to share his own opinions. 

Eventually, Steve shot to his feet, unable to take it any longer. "Well, I have class soon. Thanks for stopping by."

Brock stood too. "Do you want me to like, sign a lease or whatever? I can write a check for the first month."

Bucky slid in. "Uh, sorry, we have a few other applicants lined up, and we promised to meet with everyone before making a decision."

"Well, that isn't a very efficient way to do it. You can just tell them you rented it out, you know."

"We want to explore our options." Bucky crowded Brock to the door and out. He came halfway back up the stairs and folded his arms over the railing. "Fuck."

"No kidding. What an asshole."

"God, I hope we find someone better than that."

A week and a half later, they hadn't. Bucky had called Brock and told him they'd rented it to someone else then hung up when he started spouting a truly impressive fountain of expletives. It seemed, he'd already arranged to have his stuff moved and changed the address on his drivers license. It was mildly concerning that he now knew where they lived.

"This one has a great dane," Steve said, scrolling mindlessly through the latest responses. "And two cats. And got kicked out of his last place for partying."

"Perfect," Bucky called from the kitchen. "Let's pick him."

"Oh, he's an English major."

"Fuck that." Bucky collapsed on the couch with a sigh.  

"Maybe we should just go with Brock," Steve grumbled. "They're getting worse and worse." Steve pushed away from the computer. "I give up. I'm going for a run."

Bucky waved him off as Steve pushed to his feet and went to get changed. He hit the pavement and as soon as he found a rhythm, he felt his tense shoulders settle down away from his ears. He breathed in deeply and let it out again, his Brooklyn-born lungs dealing easily with the heavy air. 

He knew they needed a roommate, it had always been the plan when they'd moved to the bigger space, but he was starting to regret the change. Their last apartment had been a studio with a sheet pinned up to give the illusion of privacy. It wasn't always easy, but it was theirs. And they were used to living on top of each other now, they had a rhythm. A new person would throw all of that off. Especially if they ended up with someone like Brock.

Steve sighed and turned towards the small park down the street, stretching out and finding his ideal pace. He tried to push thoughts of roommates from his mind for the rest of his run. He went over what he had left of his coursework to do before midterms, pondered ideas for his big seminar project in design, and made a mental list of emails he needed to send. 

When he got back to the apartment, Bucky had taken his place at the computer. Steve tumbled down onto the floor, chest heaving, and let the cool wood ease away his hot flush.

"We got another one, Stevie."

"Let me guess. Smoker, seven untrained ferrets, works nights, and is only offering to pay half what we asked?"

"Close. Comp sci undergrad. Nineteen. Can pay first and last in cash. He sounds maybe a bit idealistic, but he seems decent enough."

"Huh." Steve started stretching out whatever he could manage without sitting up. "He's a bit young. How can a nineteen-year-old pay first and last in cash?"

Bucky snorted. "We were paying our own rent four years ago, pal. But it sounds like his parents are putting him through school."

"Does that mean he'd be leaving in a few years?"

"Probably. Good thing or bad thing?"

Steve thought it over. "Good thing if we don't like him, bad thing if we do." He grinned at Bucky, and Bucky laughed. 

"Yeah. Maybe by then we'll be loaded and we won't need a roommate anymore."

"That's the dream, bud. Just you and me til the end of the line." Steve kicked his shoes off and flopped back flat on the floor. "Well… maybe it'd also be nice to have someone in my life who puts out once in a while."

Bucky stood, rounding on Steve. "Aw, babe, all you had to do was ask." He stalked forward and Steve snapped a foot up, blocking his bath.

"Don't you fucking dare." Bucky caught Steve's foot in his stomach and leaned in, making exaggerated kissing noises. "Gross, Buck!" Steve tried to shove him away, but now he was laughing too hard. "Fuck off."

It devolved into a small wrestling match, which Bucky won since Steve was still winded from his run. Steve lay panting and worn out, half under the couch where Bucky had shoved him, and listened to Bucky call the latest applicant. 

"Yeah. Three bedrooms, one bath. Middle bedroom's all yours. Got a closet and everything." A muted voice came through the phone. "Yup. Yeah. No problem. What about tomorrow at noon? Too early? Oh, okay, good. Thanks. Yeah, see you then, man."

Steve groaned. Time for round six.

The next morning, after his run, breakfast, and some homework, Steve looked at his watch and sighed. 

Bucky, as usual, read his mind. "Hey, at least this guy can pay first and last up front." There was a knock on the door, right at noon, and Bucky pushed to his feet. "Be nice, okay?"

"I'm always nice!" Steve trailed behind Bucky as he went to open the door. Steve stopped a few stairs up, arms crossed, radiating disapproval. Bucky wrenched open the door to reveal a kid with a mess of dark, curly hair and wide, expressive eyes. He smiled uncertainly at them, gaze flickering between Steve and Bucky, then shoved his hand out towards Buck.

"Hi. I'm Tony."


	2. Chapter 2

####  **~~Now~~**  


"Tony." Steve couldn't seem to form any other word. 

They stood there staring at each other while Steve repeated,  _ say something!  _ desperately in his head, but nothing would come. And Tony wasn't saying anything either, just staring wide-eyed at Steve. Tony had to have known he would see Steve here, so why wasn't he  _ saying anything.  _

Then Bucky appeared at Steve's side. "Tony!" He stepped forward and drew Tony into a hug. Steve watched a soft smile flicker across Tony's face as he hugged him back, and Steve felt old wounds split open again. He wanted to run - just run - and never come back. But instead, he turned and climbed back into the van, grabbing his bag and claiming the seat in the far back corner. Part of him wished desperately that Tony would tuck in beside him. Part of him, maybe a bigger part, wished they'd just leave Tony behind at the airport. 

Neither happened. Clint sat in the back with Steve, reaching over to give his knee a squeeze as he settled in. Silent comfort. Clint's way of saying,  _ However you need to play this, I've got your back,  _ and Steve's next breath was shaky with relief. Tony and Nat sat in the middle row, the back of Tony's dark hair perfectly framed in Steve's vision. Bucky took the front seat so he could help navigate Peter once they got closer to the cabins. 

Seven years… Steve hadn't seen that face - besides on a TV screen and in his dreams - in seven years. Every feeling he'd been trying to stomp down on the ride to the airport reared up and brought a whole host of new ones he thought he'd effectively killed years ago. 

He was going to have to stand up at the altar with his best friend, when, out of the corner of his eye, sat the man that he'd planned to marry a lost lifetime ago. This was pure agony. 

Tony, at least, didn't look particularly comfortable himself. His eyes kept flickering back in Steve's direction without actually landing on Steve. Tony had moved on, Steve had watched him do it through newspapers, and entertainment television, and tabloid headlines at the grocery store checkout. He'd watched Tony grow up, become something huge and wonderful and powerful, and thrive. There was no way he was still holding a torch for Steve, even a barely glowing one. Steve's, on the other hand, was burning so brightly he could feel the flames licking at his skin until it was broken and blistered. 

The car ride up to the cabin was somehow simultaneously three million years and a single heartbeat long. It felt like there was electricity crackling off Tony's skin and shocking Steve. He couldn't remember a single thing he'd talked about with the others, if he'd even spoken at all. Tony had; Steve could remember the soft lilt of his voice, not so changed in seven years, though it was tight with tension.

One last turn and they pulled onto the long drive to the cabins. A client of Clint's at the range owned the property, and when Clint had mentioned wedding planning, she had immediately offered use of the entire facility at a massive discount as long as it was in the off-season. To everyone's delight, September was hot and sunny and didn't feel at all like the off-anything. 

The main cabin was a huge house on a small incline with a winding drive up to a gravel parking pad. On the other side of the house was a picnic area, a few hammocks, and then, down the hill a ways, a firepit. The property sided onto a lake, and a large, shiny white boat sat tethered to a dock. A little closer to the house was a second, smaller dock, perfect for enjoying a morning coffee as the sun rose.

There were a few other, smaller cabins dotted around, and Clint and Bucky had filled them all with guests who would be arriving on their own over the next few days. The main wedding party and their dates were all set up to stay in the main house. 

The van pulled to a stop, and they helped Peter empty the luggage out of the back. Bucky slipped him a pricey-looking handshake and sent him on his way. They trundled into the house behind Clint like baby ducklings while he flourished the rooming chart.

The front door opened into a two-story, glass-walled great room then broke into a curved staircase and a kitchen with a hallway leading to a master bedroom at the back. Clint and Bucky took that one. Upstairs, Clint directed Steve to his room and Nat and Tony to theirs.

"You guys don't mind sharing, do you? Only, we thought Nat was bringing a boyfriend and we didn't account for needing another room."

"Oh no that's fine," Tony said. "I've shared with worse."

Nat elbowed him hard enough that he grunted, and he shot her a cheeky look. Clint shooed them into their rooms then disappeared downstairs again. 

Steve's room was simple but sweet. Two twin beds and a tall dresser were the only furniture. Steve took his time unpacking, hoping that Tony would have cleared the hall by the time he came out again. Still, he could only unfold and refold a shirt so many times. He opened the door, and of course Tony was standing right there. It was too late to slide back in the room and never leave. Ever.

"Steve," Tony said again, so far the only thing he'd said to Steve in four hours.

"Hi, Tony."

"Look… I just wanted to apologize for ambushing you like that." Tony swallowed heavily. "I figured you wouldn't mind. I'll stay out of your way. I just really wanted to see Bucky and Clint get married. I hope it's alright."

Steve swallowed down a hundred pleas, accusations, curses, and nodded. "Of course, it's alright. It's good to see you again. I'm glad you're here, Tony. I know Bucky and Clint will be thrilled to have you be a part of their day."

"Thank you." Tony looked genuinely relieved. "I didn't want to butt in."

"You're not."

"I mean, I am. But I appreciate you saying that." There was a moment of deeply uncomfortable silence. "So, um. How have you been? Nat always says you're doing well."

_ Because Clint lies to Nat to cover for me,  _ Steve didn't say.  _ You ask her about me?  _ Steve didn't say. "Yeah, great. Business is booming," Steve said.

"Right. You do freelance graphic design stuff, right?"

"Yeah."

"That's awesome." Tony nodded almost more to himself, like that confirmed something. "It's good that you're doing what you always wanted to do."

"Yeah. You too."

Tony's smile slipped off then came back, brighter than before, almost flashy. "Sure am. I'm going to go check out the lake." He waved his hand, and Steve nodded, stepping back and gesturing him on.

"See you around."

Tony disappeared down the stairs.

"Fuck." Steve bolted back into his room and slammed the door shut. He pulled out his project, Bucky and Clint's wedding present, and his pencils and propped it up on the bed, leaned against the headboard. He sat cross-legged on the bed and dug his phone out of his pocket. While it was ringing, he tucked it under his ear and started sketching. 

"Hello?"

"I'm so fucked," Steve hissed into the phone. 

There was a loud bang followed by some rustling and scuffling, then Sharon said, "What?"

"Are you at the range?"

"Yeah."

"Nice. How's it holding up without Clint?"

"In the face of the leadership vacuum we've created our own dystopian society, claimed territories. I've sectioned off the woman's bathroom and part of the staff room at the back."

"Cause of the microwave?"

"Cause of the microwave. Got the mini fridge too. Soon they'll be coming to me for supplies and I can seize control."

"I knew Clint left things in good hands." Steve curled his pencil around the curve of Bucky's shoulder.

"Why are you fucked?" 

"Tony Stark is here."

"Oh, shit."

Steve leaned back, tapping the end of the pencil on his thigh. "I know."

"He just, like, showed up? Or Bucky and Clint invited him without telling you?"

"He came as Nat's plus one."

"Yikes." There was the bang of a door closing and then Sharon's voice dropped softer. "Kind of a dick move."

"Nah. I don't think she meant it that way. I never told her the details of what happened between us. I don't know if Tony told her his side of the story, or not. I think he just honestly wanted to be here for Clint and Bucky. It's not the same for him. He doesn't still think about me. He probably barely gave it a second thought when she asked, but now I'm being painfully awkward, and he can tell."

"You were together for  _ two years  _ Steve, there's no way he doesn't think about you."

Steve shrugged then realized she couldn't see it. "It didn't hit him as hard, okay? He was fine after. He dumped me then turned around and built SI into the biggest innovator in green energy this century. He's dated a ton since then. He came here, which I would never have done in his shoes. He's obviously completely over me. It might have been two years together, but it was seven years ago. No one thinks about their old flames that much."

"Oh, give yourself some credit," Sharon said. "You're more than an old flame. But I am sorry. I'm sure it must be very painful and awkward. Have you talked to him?"

"Not much."

"Don't let him ruin the wedding for you, hun. He already ruined a solid year of your life, don't give him this too."

Steve fell silent for a moment. "I'm still in love with him," he finally managed to squeeze out between grit teeth. "Nothing's changed."

Sharon sighed. "I know. I'm sorry. How's he look?"

"So fucking good." Steve went back to his sketch.

"Well, here's a thought. He single? You should sleep with him."

Steve spluttered. "What?!"

"Like a send-off. Get him out of your system."

"I don't think that's going to get him out of my system. Besides, it's not what I want." Steve wanted warm blankets in cool nights, soft laughter and a cheap bottle of wine. He wanted drinking games with their friends and too many all-nighters playing video games. He wanted puzzles in lantern light. He didn't want a one-night-stand. It wasn't the sex he still dreamt about. He wanted Tony back. "That's not what I want."

"I know…" Sharon said softly. "Want me to come up and be your date? Help show off how happy and not at all pining you are? It's not too late. I can finagle the time off work."

"No, no. It's okay. I'll be fine. Plus that would mess up the seating chart for the reception and Bucky would strangle me with the tie he doesn't want to wear."

"Clint's going to win that argument."

"I know. That's why I don't want to piss Bucky off right now. And especially not once he has weaponized formal wear in his hands. I appreciate the offer, but I'll be okay. I just need to power through it. Pretend he isn't here."

"You got this!"

"Thanks."

"Oh, fair warning, I'm staying at your place this weekend," Sharon said. 

"Why?" On the canvas, Steve blocked out the beginnings of a background.

"I have ants. They're doing fumigating or something. Thirteen and I are moving into your room until they're done."

"Alright. But don't let the neighbours see you bring Thirteen in. No pets in the building."

"I promise. I'll sneak her in in the dead of night. If they come to question me about meowing, I'll just tell them I really like the Blind Cat Sanctuary YouTube channel."

"I'm sure that'll go great," Steve said. "The last thing Bucky and Clint need for a wedding present is getting evicted."

"Don't worry, I've got this. I'll make food and leave it in your fridge."

"And cookies?"

"And cookies."

"Awesome. I forgive you in advance for getting me kicked out of my home."

There was another chime. "Sorry, hun, I've gotta go. Call me again if things get hard or if you need to bitch about Tony."

"I will, thanks for listening."

"Have a great time! You're on vacation!"

"Thanks, Sharon, really. Bye."

"Bye."

Steve tossed the phone down and looked up at his sketch. It was coming along but he'd have to rush to get it done before Saturday. Maybe that was all for the best, though. It gave him an excuse to hide away by himself and avoid a certain someone.   
  


####  **~~Then~~**

The first few weeks living with Tony were… complicated. Bucky loved him right off the bat, took him under his wing like a kid brother. He would drag Tony around town like he used to do with Steve, back when Steve was small enough to be dragged. They were instant and fast friends. 

But Bucky didn't spend as much time with Tony as Steve did. Steve's semester was mostly built around a major project, so he spent his days at home, working, and Tony only had class in the evening, so he was there too. 

Tony was kind, sweet, and generous. He didn't know how to cook, but he loved helping Steve - almost as much as he loved stealing food from him when he didn't help. He was infectiously enthusiastic about everything, including the final project he was doing for his sophomore seminar in electrical engineering, all of which went right over Steve's head. He was affectionate, funny, and clearly looked up to both Steve and Bucky as gods.

But he was also pretty awful at sharing an apartment. 

He left messes  _ everywhere  _ and then seemed almost surprised when they were pointed out to him later, like he didn't remember leaving them there. He was terrible at grocery shopping and never remembered to contribute to the shared toilet paper and laundry soap stores. Whatever he was getting from his parents was apparently a lot, because, especially the first week or two, he threw around money like it was nothing in a way that made Steve uncomfortable. Tony would buy things, use them once, then give them to Steve or Bucky. Bucky didn't seem to mind. He liked his new cell phone stand and frying pan, but Steve knew he'd never be able to return in kind, and he didn't like feeling obligated.

Thankfully, after the initial rush, and once Tony seemed to have everything he wanted in place in his room, the gifts calmed down, but Steve still wasn't sure what to think about their new roommate until about a month after he moved in, when everything changed.

"Hey, Tony! Class was cancelled..." Steve called up the stairs as he flipped through the mail. Junk, junk, junk. There was no answer, but when Steve peered over the banister, he could see the top of Tony's head over the arm of the chair in the living room. He didn't acknowledge Steve's arrival. "Tony?"

Steve dropped the flyers in the recycling bin and walked around the chair. "Tony?" He was sitting on the floor, back against the side of the chair, a mess of laundry spilled in his lap, an upended basket in the corner. 

Tony startled as Steve moved into his field of view, and he ripped a pair of earbuds out of his ears. He snuffled loudly and swiped his hand over his face, cheeks colouring. He kept his eyes pinned on his lap. "You're home early."

"Class was cancelled." Steve didn't want to embarrass him, but his urge to help overcame his desire to slip away and leave Tony alone. "You okay?" He crouched down.

"Yeah." Tony breathed heavily. He wiped his face again. "Just… stupid." He gestured at the clothing sprawled over his lap, and Steve really looked at it for the first time. There were dark blotches of colour stained over everything that wasn't already black or nearly back. Even his grey t-shirts were patchy and marked. 

Steve shoved a hand through the mess, finding more ruined fabric underneath. "Stupid… this isn't stupid, Tony, everyone screws up their laundry once in a while."

"I never have." Tony sighed.

"Well, it was bound to happen. It's inevitable that once in a while something sneaks in with the lights. At least it was black and not red. You can save some of this."

"Really?" Tony seemed a little cheered. "This has happened to you?"

"Sure. It's happened to everyone."

Tony blinked at him, mouth open. "It's never happened to me."

"Well, like I -"

"I've never done laundry before."

"Wait, what?"

"This was the first time I did laundry. And it sucked. I put it off as long as I could, but now everything's dirty."

Steve sat heavily on the floor. "Did your mom always do it before? I thought you'd lived alone for a few years already."

Tony's jaw twitched. "No." His voice was heavy. "I -" He seemed to deflate even further, as if he could sink into the floor. "I may have lied about something…" 

Steve tensed, bracing. "About what?"

"On my application… look. I'm - I think I should tell you about me. I thought it would be easy to keep it a secret, to just keep to myself, but it's not easy. I like you guys too much. I want you to know."

"Okay."

"First of all, I'm not an undergrad in university."

Steve's eyes narrowed. "Did you lie about your age, because -"

"No! No, I'm really nineteen. Though, since I lied about everything else, I might as well have, because I could really use a drink right now." He laughed, but it was breathy and broken.

Steve watched him sniffle for a moment then stood and walked into the kitchen. He came back with a beer, popped the top off, and offered it to Tony. 

Tony looked at him. "Really?"

"You've had it before right?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Then just don't go anywhere, okay? We'll split it."

"Alright." Tony took a swig then handed it back. "So, yeah. I'm not an undergrad. I'm a grad student."

That… didn't compute. "Wait, what? A _ grad  _ student? I thought you were going to say you weren't a student at all."

"Yeah, I'm doing my second PhD right now. Electrical engineering. I already have one in Quantum Mechanics."

"Holy shit. Why would you lie about that?"

Tony squirmed, picking at the edge of a stained t-shirt. "I figured you wouldn't believe it anyway. What nineteen year old already has three degrees? And I - I also lied about my family. I said they were supporting me, but they're not. My dad kicked me out. I came back from school with - uh - with a -" Tony's voice evaporated.

"A…?" Steve prompted gently. "A tattoo? A piercing? An F on a paper?" He nudged Tony's thigh with his foot. "A pet squirrel?"

"A boyfriend," Tony burst out, then he froze.

"Oh." Steve landed his hand on Tony's ankle and squeezed gently. "Sorry."

Tony swallowed again. "I honestly thought they'd be happy for me. What an idiot. I guess my mom could have gotten over it, but my dad, he… wasn't happy."

"I'm really sorry, Tony. That's awful."

He took a shaky breath. "Dad kicked me out, cut me off. I - my family is loaded. Like really loaded." He looked at Steve whose eyebrows rose. "Like  _ really  _ loaded. But he cut me off entirely. He said no - no - he said he wouldn't leave his company to - to - a - me..." Tony trailed off.

"Shit." Steve pushed the beer back towards him, and Tony took a drink then coughed. He wiped his eyes then drank again. "Tony, you - you know we don't care right? Bucky and I both date guys too. You didn't have to hide that from us. I'm not blaming you for doing it, I know the impulse. It's just - you're safe here, okay?"

Tony sniffed again and blinked hard. "Okay. Yeah. Thanks." Steve squeezed his ankle again. "So, well, I grew up in a really rich family. I've never had to do anything for myself. When I was at college they rented me a house and paid for a cleaning and laundry service. I'd never paid my own phone bill until last week. I have money." He looked up sharply. "I can make rent. The classes in the evening, I'm not a student, I'm a TA. I teach seminars and I get paid. Plus, I have grants for my research. So, don't worry about that."

"I wasn't worried," Steve said, even though the thought had been occurring to him.

"I  _ can  _ support myself," Tony said, and it sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as Steve. "I just… don't know how."

"Let me and Buck help, alright? You're not the first person to leave home not knowing how to do laundry. Bucky didn't know you had to replace light bulbs until two years ago. Everyone's got gaps in their experience. Let us help you, alright?"

"Really?"

"Yeah. We love having you as a roommate, pal, you're family now. If you need help, all you have to do is ask."

Tony let out a shaky breath. "Okay. Thank you. I'm sorry I lied, really. I was just freaked out."

"It's okay, Tony. I understand. And you can have your boyfriend over, you know. We won't mind. I'd like to meet him."

A storm clouded over Tony's face. "Ah, yeah. No. Turns out once I was broke, he suddenly wasn't that into me anymore."

"Fuck." Steve shook his head when Tony offered him the beer back. "I think you'd better finish that. I'll get my own." He grabbed a second bottle then herded Tony up on the couch. He shoved the ruined laundry back in the basket and tucked it behind the chair where they couldn't see it, then started up Tony's favourite game. "I know a cool secondhand shop around the corner. If you've got the cash, we can go tomorrow and find you some new clothes."

"Thanks." They played the game in silence for a while, but Steve could feel tension radiating from the other end of the couch. Finally, Tony spoke, but it wasn't what Steve was expecting. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. Maybe another confession. "Um. So, you and Bucky really both date guys?"

Steve snorted. "Oh yeah. That's how we met, at a gay bar."

"Really?" Tony's eyes flicked away from the screen to stare at Steve.

"Eeeyup. I was seventeen and trying to prove that I belonged there, he was eighteen and had a thing for feisty blondes who were more trouble than they were worth. I tried to get in a fight, he tried to pick me up. So, then I tried to fight him instead. And, well. Then we were best friends. There was probably something in the middle there, but I don't remember. I have a feeling underage drinking was involved." He winked in Tony's direction, and Tony tipped his bottle towards Steve and took another swig.

"That's a crazy story."

"Bucky's a crazy dude."

"But, um, you two aren't - I mean, you're just friends now, right?"

Steve snorted again. "Oh, yeah. Let me tell you, that would  _ not  _ work out. I love the guy, but no way. We've never been anything more than friends."

"Hey, speaking of friends…"

"Yeah?"

Tony knocked back the rest of his beer. "There's a student in my class that I'm getting kind of close with. I was wondering if maybe I could bring her by some time? I think you guys would like her too."

"Of course. You can bring anyone you want over, Tony. This is your home. You pay rent, you live here, you can use the space."

Tony's expression shifted through a full spectrum of emotion. He settled on pleasantly surprised with an "Oh." He turned back to the TV.

The next week, Tony made good on bringing his friend over. Steve and Bucky were having their weekly, Friday night argument about pizza toppings when the door opened and Tony came barrelling up the stairs. He shot a look over the banister that said something along the lines of "please be cool" and then a red-haired woman with what appeared to be a permanently-sardonic smile materialized behind him.

"This is Natasha," he said, slightly breathlessly.

Steve crossed the room to shake her hand. "Hey, welcome. We were just going to order pizza, you guys want some?"

Tony kicked his shoes off. "Who won?"

Bucky snorted. "No one yet."

"Only if Bucky wins," Tony said. 

Steve threw his hands up. "Fine! Do the weird thing with olives. At least get me a half that's just pepperoni."

"I like pepperoni," Natasha said. 

Bucky dialed.

They all collapsed on the couch in a pile, and Steve found himself with the urge to give Natasha the third degree. She held her own, with surprising aplomb. It turned out she was getting her degree in Computer Science. She and Tony had hit it off talking about internet security and firewalls. The conversation was briefly derailed by the resurgence of an old argument of theirs, not a word of which Steve understood, but Bucky got them back on track by asking Natasha - Nat - where her family was from. Then that led to another conversation that Steve didn't understand because both Bucky and Nat's grandmothers had taught them Russian. 

While they chatted, Tony shot Steve an uncertain look, and he smiled back. Something new flickered to life in Steve's chest, something that had been building since Tony had confessed his secret. Steve realized that if Nat ever tried to hurt Tony, Steve would have to hold back his desire to destroy her. He'd never felt that strongly about protecting someone before, and it made him reel a bit. He walked into the kitchen and grabbed more pizza to cover the intensity of his sudden emotions. 

He'd never felt that way with Bucky, maybe because Bucky had put so many years into dragging Steve out of fights instead of the other way around. But for all his big-talk and bluster, Tony wore his heart on his sleeve and handed it out to anyone who looked his way. And Steve very, very much did not want that heart getting stomped on.

He didn't know if Nat was a potential romantic interest, Tony had only every talked about relationships with guys, but either platonically or romantically, Tony was clearly smitten with her, and now, it seemed, Steve would go to the ends of the earth to make sure that didn't end badly for him.

When Nat left, he resisted the urge to follow her out and ask her what her intentions were, but only just. When the three of them settled on the couch and Bucky said, "I like her," Steve shuffled a little closer to Tony, wrapped an arm around his shoulders and dragged him in for a half-hug before releasing him.

He looked between Bucky and Tony. Yeah, it wasn't quite the same...


	3. Chapter 3

####  **~~Now~~**

Bucky and Clint hadn't planned too many structured events, but on the second day, as more and more people arrived at the cabins, they announced that they'd be having a bit of a welcome party so the different groups could meet. It was just a casual barbeque by the lake, but it would also be the first event where both Steve and Tony would have to show up. Could Steve handle several hours in Tony's presence and not say anything? And if he did say something, what would he say?

_ Do you ever think about me? _

_ How could you? _

_ Do you miss me as much as I miss you? _

If he tried to say any of those things, it would probably come out a jumbled mess anyway. 

"The gas is already on, Bucky! It's been on the whole time." Clint's voice wafted in through the open window. Steve set down his book and tried to look out. "It just won't light."

"Push it again."

Steve saw the corner of the barbeque against the side of the cabin and leapt to his feet. He ran out on the deck. "Do not push it again!" 

Bucky stopped with his finger on the lighter. "What?"

Steve switched the gas off. "How long have you had the gas on? Why are you guys trying to do this?"

"We want to cook for everyone," Bucky said, forehead creasing. Clint made a face behind them that suggested this had been a point of contention. 

"You're going to blow up the house first." Steve waved a hand over the open barbeque, trying to dissipate some of the gas. 

"At least that'll make our wedding one to remember," Clint said with a smile.

"Let me do it," Steve said at the same time that Clint said, "Let Steve do it. He's the only one of all of us who knows how to cook."

Clint dragged Bucky away, and Steve watched them go, smiling when Bucky hooked an arm around Clint's shoulders and drew him in for a kiss. Steve knew it hadn't always been easy for them, they'd had their rough patches, but sometimes it felt like it. Bucky and Clint were a staple, an institution, The Couple. 

Once upon a time, that had been Steve and Tony. Steve checked to see that enough time had passed to disperse the gas then examined the starter. He tried it a few times, but no spark came, so he went back in the house and rummaged around until he found a lighter in a junk drawer in the kitchen. That worked, and in no time at all, he had the barbeque warming. 

"Steve!"

Steve turned to see Clint's cousin, Wanda, running across the lawn to greet him. He opened his arms with a smile, and she threw herself into the hug. "Hey! How are you? Congrats on graduating!"

"Thank you!"

Wanda's brother Pietro appeared behind her, and Steve gave him a hug too. He hadn't seen either of them in ages, not since the pair had come to visit Clint at the range a few years ago.

"We just got in. We're going to unpack, but we'll see you later!"

After that, people started flowing in. Much of Clint's side hadn't arrived until today. He had a huge and somewhat mysterious family that involved so much adoption, remarriage, drama, and secrets that it was almost impossible to keep up with how they were all related - especially since much of the extended family wasn't related by blood at all - but Steve had given up on that tree long ago and now just focused on trying to remember names and maybe a vague sense of what jobs people had. 

The barbeque was hot now, so Steve pawed through the cooler next to it until he found a bag of veggie skewers. He laid them out on the grill and dug through to see what else he could cook. People were gathering steadily now, crowding around the grill, setting up picnic tables, drinking, shouting excited greetings. Steve smiled and waved at several of Clint's family, completely at a loss for their names. 

Natasha was in heaven. She'd known Clint since their moms were pregnant together, and his family was hers too. Living on the west coast, though, she likely hadn't seen most of them in years. A pile of young cousins dive-bombed her, and she went down laughing. 

Steve turned back to the food with a smile, but it dropped off his face when he caught sight of Tony slipping out of the house into the crowd. Steve busied himself with peeling frozen burgers out of their wrappers. He stayed aware of Tony out of the corner of his eye, watching as he was intercepted by Bucky and Steve's old roommate, Scott, and his girlfriend, Hope.

If Steve was very quiet, he could just make out their conversation. 

"Tony! Man, how are you?" Scott offered a hand and Tony took it, letting himself be drawn into a one-armed hug. He and Hope smiled politely at each other, and Scott introduced her. It was weird to think that Scott was this overlapping part of the two lives Steve had lived. He'd been there in the apartment for the end of Tony, helped Steve pull himself out of the pit loosing Tony had put him in. And then Scott had met Hope and moved out - moved out of the city. Steve liked Hope, and while he and Scott had never been the closest of friends while they were roommates, Steve still missed him.

And, of course, he'd been Tony's roommate too, for almost a year. It was beyond bizarre to think that so long ago they'd all so happily lived together: Steve, Bucky, Scott, and Tony. And now Steve was third-wheeling it in a new apartment with Bucky and Clint, Scott and Hope had moved upstate, and Tony… well.

"Hope, this is Tony. Tony, my girlfriend, Hope."

"Nice to meet you." Hope paused for a second, hand still in his. "Wait, Tony Stark?"

Tony winced, Steve caught the pained twist to his face out of the corner of his eye and had to grip the edge of the table next to the barbeque to stop himself from turning all the way around. 

But then Hope added, "We've been trying to do a deal with you guys for weeks now. The Matherson contract. I think we could work together." At Tony's curious look she added. "Hope  _ Pym."  _

"Oh shit! Pym, no way. Congrats on the StormTech merger. That was a bold move."

"Thank you."

"But yeah, we should absolutely meet about Matherson. If we don't find time to chat about it this week, I'll get my assistant to set up something official."

"Perfect."

Scott sighed overdramatically. "Come on guys, we're on vacation. Can the shop talk."

Hope winked at Tony and slipped her arm through her boyfriend's, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Tony chuckled. Steve was staring outwardly now, the burger flipper hanging uselessly from his hand.

"Glad you made it, though," Scott said, clapping Tony on the back with his free hand. "It's been an age."

"Same. You can thank Nat, she's my plus one. So, what have you been up to these days?"

"Oh man, Nat. I have to say hi to her too. She moved out your way, yeah? Haven't seen her in years."

"Yeah. She lives in Seattle, and I'm in -" Tony made a strange, tight noise. "Yeah, I'm in LA. I think she's still being ambushed by endless waves of Clint's terrifying family, but you should catch her later."

"I will, I will." Scott dug around in a cooler until he came up with a beer. "So, yeah, I've mostly been endlessly in school. I'm getting a PhD right now in mechanical engineering. Probably end up working at Baskin Robbins with the economy right now." He snorted. "But I'm enjoying it."

"Hey, those that can't do, teach. You should be a professor. They'd love you."

"That'd be pretty awesome. Thanks, man. It's definitely on the list." Scott took a sip of his drink. "So, the bigshot CEO life working out for you?"

Tony's face shuttered tight then he grinned. "Sure. It's lucrative, alright."

"I bet."

Hope smirked. "I saw your home in Malibu featured in Architecture magazine. It's incredible."

"Thanks." Tony's flashy grin shifted into something softer. "I really love that house. It's a beautiful view and wonderfully private." A hundred complex emotions flitted across Tony's face, and Steve's heart twisted with the painful knowledge that he could no longer read every one as if it were written there. Time really had pulled them untouchably far apart.

Steve looked up again and caught Hope's eye, kicking himself for drawing their attention when she moved towards him and Scott and Tony had no choice but to drift closer with her. Scott shot Steve a panicked look then tried to school it into a friendly smile.

"Hi, Steve!" Hope said. "It's been so long, how are you?"

"Fantastic," Steve said, offering her a hug and informing his eyes that they were absolutely  _ not  _ to drift in Tony's direction.

"How are you guys liking the new apartment?"

"It's wonderful. So much space. We're really happy with it." His eyes betrayed him and flicked Tony's way, cutting carefully on towards Scott when he realized Tony was watching him intensely. 

"Where's that partner of yours?" she asked. "Is he here? Or is he holding down the fort back home?"

"Oh, Sam's going to join us tomorrow. He had some work to finish up."

Scott and Hope had started dating right when Steve and Sam had been in the very beginnings of forming their business. She'd be surprised to see how much things had grown since then.

"I'm so glad he's coming," she said. "I can't wait to see him again. Do they have tennis here? I owe him a rematch."

"Not sure," Steve said with a smile, wondering who had won their last game. "Clint would know." He turned back to his burgers. "Would you -?"

Tony coughed sharply and turned on his heel, his jaw tight. "I have to -" He gestured vaguely and marched off, disappearing into the cabin. 

The three of them watched him go.

"Sorry, Steve," Scott said with a wince.

"It's okay," Steve said, maybe too quickly, too sharply. "We're not - we're here for Bucky and Clint. The past is in the past."

Hope smacked a hand over her mouth. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry. That's Tony-Tony. Your ex-Tony? Oh, Steve. I never thought he'd be here. He said he was here with Nat and I didn't make the connection. I didn't think -"

"It's okay, Hope." Steve reached out and squeezed her arm gently. "We're going to be here together all week. We can't very well avoid each other. It'll be fine. I'd rather focus on Bucky and Clint."

"Of course, yes. I'm so sorry." She clapped her hands together. "So, how about a burger?"

"Yes, ma'am!" Steve set about serving the food, but his heart couldn't help but follow Tony into the house. He'd been rippling with tension throughout that entire conversation, and Steve couldn't figure out why. They'd had their awkward little talk, and Steve thought everything was settled? They'd stick it out for the happy couple and otherwise ignore each other, but Tony didn't seem able to do that.

There was no way he was  _ mad  _ at Steve, was he? Their breakup had been his idea. And sure, Steve hadn't called when he really should have. He hadn't followed up to check on Tony or offer to be a friend to him. He was too hurt and too confused and too broken from all of it, and by the time he'd put himself back together, it was too late. Tony was on TV living the big life, and Steve knew he needed to move on.

But now it seemed that Tony was holding it against him anyway, for some reason that Steve couldn't fathom. 

Steve flipped another burger morosely, glad of the opportunity to pretend to be occupied.

He made it through the rest of the party without seeing Tony. That evening, when the adults gathered in deck chairs along the boat dock to drink beer and laugh and catch up, Tony failed to appear. It was a breath of fresh air for Steve, and for the first time since he'd stepped in that van, he found himself able to relax and have a good time. He went to sleep with a smile on his face, Tony, the farthest thing from his mind.

 

####  **~~Then~~**

The gentle rocking of the subway was lulling Steve to sleep, even with Tony and Bucky nattering on beside him. Acquiring Natasha as a friend meant acquiring regular, frequent invites to her roommates' parties, and tonight was no exception. Bucky always wanted to go, Tony sometimes wanted to go, and Steve occasionally wanted to go. Tonight wasn't exactly one of those nights where they all overlapped, but Tony had given Steve sad puppy eyes until he relented and joined in. He knew part of the reason was that Bucky would probably crash there and Tony would want to come home, and no one wanted to come back from Queens alone on the subway at night, especially not a somewhat admittedly coddled Malibu kid with more money than sense.

But Steve was tired. He'd been up far too late the night before trying to get his schoolwork done and put together his own website to bring in some contract work. His money was dwindling. The contact that had landed him several design gigs in a row over the last summer had moved out of town, and the savings Steve had built up from that weren't quite cutting it anymore, even with Tony's contribution to the household. So, he was stressed, he needed a job, and he wasn't much looking forward to an evening of people he barely knew, following Tony and Bucky around with a spray bottle to spritz them if they tried to get into trouble.

They were probably already scheming…

The subway chimed, and Steve jolted upright when Bucky elbowed him in the side. "Come on man, let's go."

The party was everything Steve had expected: red solo cups and overheated, overpacked rooms. Partygoers had spilled out onto the tiny back fire escape and all the windows were open, but the house was still a sauna inside. Steve chugged back soda, letting the ice sit against his lips for a moment, trying to cool off. Tony was playing beer pong in the far corner, and Bucky and Nat were part of a crowd puppy-piled onto the couches in front of the TV. 

Steve had ended up spending most of the party chatting with Natasha's roommate Maria and her friend Nick, but they'd just left, so he leaned against the edge of a table, caught in that uncomfortable party limbo where you needed to either set off and find someone new to talk to or hope someone would come to you.

As it happened, someone did. 

"Hey man, who's your friend?"

Steve looked up so see a smiling man with dirty blond hair and wicked looking black eye standing close next to him. Steve looked around, trying to figure out who he meant. "Maria? We just met."

"No." He shook his head. "You came in with him."

"Oh." Steve pointed across the room. "Tony."

"The other one. The one with my girlfriend sitting in his lap." His smile brightened.

"Oh, shit." Steve leaned to the side to get a better look. Natasha was, in fact, sitting in Bucky's lap, a hand resting on either cheek while she laughed at something he said. "That's Bucky…"

The man rumbled, a low growl, and Steve looked at him in surprise, but then he broke into hysterical laughter and doubled over, clutching his stomach. "Man, you should see your face. Does he hit on other guys' girls a lot? Don't worry, she's not my girlfriend, I'm just kidding."

Steve let out a tense breath then allowed himself a chuckle. 

"I'm Clint. I've been Nat's friend since before diapers. She can hit on whoever she wants, it's cool. I just wanted to see what you'd do."

Steve was caught between frustration and amusement. "I'm Steve." He shook Clint's hand. "Before diapers, huh? What - did your parents start you in three-piece suits or something?"

"Ha! Nah, our mom's were besties before we were even conceived. She's a year older than me, likes to pretend she knows what's best for me."

"I know what that's like. Buck's the same way."

"And the kid?" Clint gestured. 

"Tony? He's our roommate." Steve had the visceral urge to add,  _ he's not a kid,  _ which was odd since he called him that himself on a regular basis. "He teaches the tutorial Natasha's in."

Clint snapped his fingers. "Oh yeah! Shit, she totally mentioned him. I assumed he was like thirty though, the way she talks about him."

"He's a genius," Steve heard himself saying. "On his third degree already."

"Dude." Clint knocked back the rest of his drink.

Steve took the opportunity to give him a once over.  "So, you live around here? Don't think I've seen you here before."

"Mm, just moved into town. I was in Iowa for a few years. Did some stuff."

"Well, welcome."

"Thanks."

"You in school?"

"Nah, I run a shooting range in the city now, archery and guns, teach lessons, that kind of thing."

"Wow, that's awesome."

Clint shot him a smile. "Never was any good at school. But I got a bit of money when my old man died so I figured why not start my own business? It's alright, but man, staffing's a bitch. I put out an ad, and you should see the responses I get."

"Oh, I can imagine. Before Tony moved in we went through something like thirty applications for the room, and it was hell. Half of them clearly hadn't even read the ad."

"Right? Well, work's a bitch, what can you do?" He raised his glass, and Steve knocked their cups together.

"You studying?"

"Yeah, design."

"Cool. You do websites and stuff?"

"Yeah." 

Clint stepped away from the table and they wound their way around towards the kitchen again. "Man, I should get you to do one for the range, once I can afford it."

"Definitely." They restocked their drinks. Steve jumped when a hand landed on his elbow. He spun. "Oh, hey, Tony. This is Clint."

"Hey, man." Tony shot him a sloppy wave. "Heard a lot about you. Steve, Steve we won." He grinned.

"And how drunk are you?"

"Like a fourteen point six."

Steve laughed. "On what scale?"

"A good one." Tony leaned heavily on Steve's arm, and Steve caught him around the waist, holding him up. 

"Let's sit down." Steve took the cup Tony held loosely in his hand and knocked the rest of it back before trading it for water. All three of them made their way over to the crowd by the couches and Bucky shoved up to make space for Steve and Tony to squeeze in beside him. Tony was soft and pliant from the alcohol, and Steve had drunk just enough himself that everything seemed easy.

"Hey!" Nat called out when they shuffled in. She abandoned Bucky's lap to flop over Clint's scrubbing her fingers through his hair hard enough that Steve wasn't sure if was a sign of affection or a punishment for something. "Oh, hey, Clint! Steve needs a job, you should hire Steve."

Clint tugged her closer and kissed her cheek. "Yeah, we were just talking about that. I'm going to get him to do the website someday."

"No," Nat said. "The counter job."

Steve realized he must be drunker than he thought since it didn't occur to him to ask which position Clint was hiring for and, perhaps, offer himself up. 

Clint looked over at him. "Oh, you looking for something?"

"Yeah, couple shifts a week, would be nice. Something lowkey."

"Well, shit, you should come by the range and we'll talk sober. I need someone to man the counter like fifteen-ish hours a week? It's simple. You just gotta learn the safety talks for the archery side. I've got gun guys who work the other range. Carding, common sense, handling money, plus it doesn't hurt to have biceps like yours so no one tries to start any shit." Clint pulled his wallet out and tugged a card out of a slot at the back. He flicked his fingers and the card shot over the heads of several people playing Jenga on the floor and bounced off of the back of the couch and down into Steve's lap. 

"Wow." Steve shoved the card in his wallet before he forgot. "Thanks."

"Not everyday a job falls in your lap," Tony said, laughing like a hyena at his own joke. 

Steve shoved Tony off the couch in retaliation, and he happily shuffled up to join the group on the floor in their game. The conversation drifted back the way it had come, and Steve let it wash over him, really sinking into his buzz. Bucky's arm bumped against Steve's side as he talked and there was something comforting about it, steadying. 

The Jenga tower on the floor collapsed, drawing Steve's attention which then flickered to Tony when he realized what he was doing. Tony was leaning over, pushed well into the space of another partygoer that Steve didn't recognize. He'd rested his cheek on his shoulder and was looking up at the other guy through his eyelashes, soft smile curving his lips. The other guy was talking, smiling back, and Steve wanted to  _ kill him.  _

It hit him like a freight train, the urge to tear across the room, spreading Jenga tiles in every direction, get that guy by the throat and slam him up against the wall. It was such a foreign, twisted desire, that Steve gulped back the rest of Tony's water in an attempt to break the strange hold on him. But when he looked back, the cool comfort of the water was obliterated by a second hot rush of rage tearing through him. 

He absolutely  _ hated  _ this guy that he'd never met, and he couldn't figure out why. Tony wasn't in any danger; it wasn't like Steve was going to let him wander off with some stranger when he was that drunk, and Tony wasn't the type to anyway. It was some harmless flirting. Really, he should be happy that Tony was meeting people he liked. The more Steve heard about Tony's father and his last - and only - boyfriend, the more Steve was convinced that Tony needed a chance to meet people and find love and happiness with freedom and understanding. He wanted that for him, wanted him to have the comfort and joy of falling in love and being loved back, instead of used. So here Tony was, meeting someone who Steve was sure was a perfectly nice friend of Nat's, and Steve wasn't happy for him, he was angry.

Steve glared at his empty cup as if it were responsible. He'd always had problems with his temper, but it had never flared up randomly for no reason. He got mad when people were dicks, when people were taking advantage of other people, but this guy was just talking. To Tony.

Steve kinda wished he wouldn't talk to Tony.

That thought bubbled and simmered until it reached a breaking point and broke into a roiling boil. 

It wasn't that Steve minded that the other guy was talking to Tony, he was bothered that he was flirting, that Tony was  _ flirting back.  _

Because, well -

Steve wanted Tony to flirt with _ him. _

Shit.

Steve sat there for a long time, staring blankly at Tony and his new friend in a way that would make anyone concerned if they noticed, bashing the idea around in his mind. He let his eyes drift down over the curve of Tony's jaw, watching the muscles jump as he spoke in a low voice. Steve's fingers itched to reach for him, draw him back up onto the couch with him, into his lap, into his arms. He wanted to kiss him, flicking his eyes over to that -  _ other guy,  _ so he'd know who he belonged to. 

And this wasn't some misplaced desire to protect him because he was younger and bit helpless, Steve had felt that before, he knew what that was like, he'd been feeling it for Tony for the past few months. But now, especially now that he was acknowledging it, a new flame burst to life like a match touched to lighter fluid-soaked paper. For the first time, Steve wanted Tony desperately, in every possible way. He'd never wanted like this, so suddenly, so badly, so deeply. 

Steve held out for another hour, fingers clenched on the edge of the couch, terrified that the little he'd had to drink would crack his self-control enough that he wouldn't be able to stop himself from flying off the couch and tackling either Tony or his flirty friend. When the party started to wind down, Steve was deeply relieved when Bucky was the one to grab Tony and drag him away, even if Bucky was also the one who fell asleep on the subway on the way home.

"Did you get his number?" Steve asked through forcibly unclenched teeth as the train clacked along.

"Hmm?" Tony looked up from where he'd been playing a game on his phone.

"The guy. The Jenga guy. Looked like you liked him."

Tony shrugged. "Sure. I mean, I don't really do that. I have to really get to know someone before I want to go out with them. So, maybe if I met him again." Tony let out a soft sigh and leaned his head against Steve's shoulder. "I don't fall for people easily."

Steve tipped his chin up to stare at the underlighting of the strip of ads over his head. He took a deep breath and let it out. 

_ Fall for me,  _ he begged.


	4. Chapter 4

####  **~~Now~~**

"Steve! Wait up!" 

Steve turned to see Natasha jogging across the lawn. "Hey!" He threw an arm around her shoulders and gave her a half-hug. "I feel like I've barely seen you."

"Are you going for a walk?" She gestured towards the trailhead Steve had been wandering towards.

"Yeah, I was thinking about it."

"Mind if I come with you?"

"Of course not." 

They were barely into the trees when Nat addressed the elephant on the lawn. "I'm sorry I didn't warn you about bringing Tony."

"It's okay," Steve said, trying to make it sound like it really was, even though it kind of wasn't. Still, if she'd told him, what would he have done?

"It's not. If I'd known things were that awkward, I never would have brought him, but he sounded like he was cool with it, so I assumed you were too."

"Aren't exes always awkward?"

"Not necessarily." She bumped her shoulder against Steve's. "Clint and I aren't awkward at all."

Steve snorted. "You 'dated' for three days in fifth grade."

"Best three days of my life," she said with an exaggerated sniffle. "Seriously though, I always thought your breakup was more of a mutual thing. I kind of missed the big collapse, and Tony wouldn't talk about it. He always asked about you, but he wouldn't talk about you. I figured if anything, you broke up with him. So, I'm sorry, I would have said no when he asked if I'd known it would bother you. I really should have asked first."

Steve stopped. "What you do mean, 'said no when he asked'?"

"When he asked to come."

"He asked you?"

"Well, yeah. He found out about the wedding, I assume from Bucky, and asked me if I'd been invited and if I had a plus one. I said I'd take him because I figured he was that eager to see Bucky and Clint again. It was small enough that I wasn't surprised they hadn't invited him." She hummed. "Come to think of it, the little fucker might have suggested that they'd been expecting us to come together."

Steve's head spun. He'd been assuming that Nat had dragged Tony here, that he'd only agreed to get to see Clint and Bucky, but Tony had been the one to ask? Why?

"You okay?" Nat asked.

"I'm -" Steve set off walking again. "Yeah… I'm fine. It was just a surprise. But, honestly, it's probably all for the best that you didn't tell me he was coming. I would have either tried to get out of coming myself - which is obviously crazy - tried to get Tony not to come - which isn't fair to Tony at all, he deserves to be here - or spent the weeks leading up to the wedding completely freaking out. At least this way I wasn't tortured by the anticipation."

"Steve… what happened between you two?"

Steve sighed. The trees had broken into a small, marshy field, singing with the happy calls of eager frogs. He tipped his chin up to the sun. "He broke up with me… I don't want to talk about it, if that's okay, I feel like it's all I've been thinking about for the last two days. But, he broke up with me. And I don't hold it against him, if he didn't love me anymore, it was the right move to make, but that doesn't mean it hurt any less. I really struggled to get over it."

Nat reached out and wound their fingers together. "Sorry."

Steve held her hand tightly and led the way back into the woods. "It's alright. Now, tell me all about Seattle."

The tone shifted easily, and Steve found himself happily falling back into comfortable conversation with Natasha. They'd never been as close as she was with Tony, but he liked her and he missed her. He vowed to make more of an effort to stay in touch with her from now on. He'd let too many friends fall off the radar out of the painful fear that they'd bring up Tony. But with Nat, he should have known, all he had to do was ask her once to leave the topic alone forever and she would, until he brought it up again. 

They turned the loop of the trail and started to work their way back up, laughing and silly now. The sun was warm, and the marsh was alive with bird calls and lazy dragonflies. The wood-mulch scented air cleared years of pollution and city-grit out of Steve's lungs and he found himself breathing in deep, full breaths every time. Even with Tony here, he felt settled and steady.

The others were sitting in a circle of lawn chairs when they got back, sharing bags of chips, some smoking, some drinking, all chatting. Steve took a chair as far away from Tony as he could, then realized it put him right across the circle from him, so if he looked up, Tony was what he was looking at. Nat perched herself on Tony's chair and bent over to whisper something in his ear. He nodded.

Steve let himself be sucked into conversation, interrupting Clint's story about the time they went to Ikea with corrections to Clint's wild dramatizations.

"Sam!" Bucky suddenly called out, cutting off Clint's story, and Steve spun around. 

Sam was hiking up from the driveway, pulling a wheelie suitcase behind him. Steve was so relieved to see someone that wasn't wrapped up in Tony that he flung himself across the grass and pulled Sam into a hug. "It is so good to see you."

Sam held Steve at arm's length and looked him over. "You look awful."

"Wow. Thanks."

"Seriously, what's up? You're not stressing about that Simpson email, are you? Cause I wrote them back and -"

"No, no. It's - my ex showed up. I - wait. What's wrong with Simpson?"

"Nothing. I handled it. Your  _ ex?  _ You mean Tony?"

Steve scrubbed a hand over his face. "Who else could I mean? He came as Nat's plus one."

"He and Nat aren't -?"

"No, god no. Just as friends." Steve opened his mouth to say more, but he felt people approaching behind him. "Meet me at the dock once you dump your stuff. I'll tell you everything."

Sam clapped him on the back. "Thanks man." He turned to the others. "Hey! The party has arrived."

Steve slipped away and wandered down to the dock. He sat on the edge and rolled his pants up then dropped his feet in the water, hoping no fish would come and nibble on his toes. He glanced back and noticed that Tony was the only one left sitting in the lawn chairs. He had his legs folded up under him, and it shot Steve back to nine years ago, when they'd first met. He always used to sit like that. He was frowning down at his tablet then he glanced up and his eyes went straight to Steve. Steve snapped back around to look at the lake, but he could feel Tony's gaze boring into the back of his neck, and he didn't know if it was real or imaginary.

The dock wobbled, and a moment later, Sam sat down beside him. "You alright?"

"Not really."' Steve let out a long, tense breath. "Nat didn't tell anyone she was bringing him. She didn't realize things between us would be this bad. But if Tony had never brought us to her parties, Bucky and Clint never would have met. We wouldn't be having a wedding at all if it weren't for Tony. They should have invited him, and I'm sure the only reason they didn't was me. I know if I'd told them to, they'd have jumped at the chance. But they didn't even ask. I would have said no, and I feel horrible about it. He deserves to be here."

"But it doesn't make it any easier to see him."

"No… it really doesn't. I feel like it was just yesterday that we were together. God, Sam, it took me so long to get over him. You only caught the tail end of it, but it was bad. I mean, I don't think I ever actually got over him, honestly. But I figured out a way to live with it. And I'm afraid that seeing him again is going to bring all that up again." He groaned and dropped his face into his hands. "I don't want to spend another year in my sweatpants."

"Come on, man." Sam patted his back. "You can do this. But if you really can't, you should talk to Bucky. He can tell Tony to go home. It's not like Tony Stark can't afford a last minute flight change."

"No. Definitely not. Like I said, he deserves to be here. And Nat wants him here. I just have to - I don't know. Something. Hold it together."

"Maybe you need to talk to him."

"What?"

"Well, by the sounds of it, you never really got much closure. You had this high tension, high-emotional breakup at a terrible time and then you never spoke to him again, right?"

"Yeah."

"So. You need closure, man. You should tell him how you feel, what he did to you. Get an apology."

"It wasn't just him, Sam. I know I say he broke my heart, and he did, but it's not all on him. I made mistakes too. I let him go when I knew he was going through so much. I wasn't even a friend for him when he needed one. I'm not going to demand he apologize to me in the middle of Bucky and Clint's wedding week. Especially not when we share the blame for what happened."

Sam sighed and leaned back on his hands, tipping his face up to the sun. "Doesn't have to be like that. Just talk to him. You're both adults, right? And you said he's over it. But you're clearly not. So talk to him. Get it all out in the open. At the end of the week he's fucking off back to Cali, right? And it's already tortuously awkward, so it's not like you can make it any worse."

"Great."

"Just think about it."

"I will." What Steve didn't say was that it had been all he'd been able to think about since he first saw Tony standing there. "Come on, there's some people you haven't met."

"Apparently," Sam said pointedly, and Steve rolled his eyes.

Steve led the way back up the grass to where most of the crowd had gathered again. "This is Sam." A quick glance assured him that he knew the names of everyone there, so Steve pointed around the circle quickly, rattling them all off. He knew Sam wasn't going to remember any of them, anyway. When he got to Tony, he couldn't help looking at him, and he almost staggered backwards at the sheer intensity of the look on Tony's face. He was scowling at Sam, his ET-smile and bright eyes twisted dark and angry, and instead of saying hello he dropped his gaze down to his lap and glared.

Steve moved past him as quickly as he could, finished the circle, then gestured Sam into the chair next to him. He passed him a beer, which Sam popped open with a grateful sigh.

"So, Sam, what do you do?" Wanda asked politely.

Sam waved his hand in Steve's direction. "I do what he does, only slower. We co-own Shield Designs."

"Oh, wow! Did you go to the same school?"

"Nah, we met after we graduated. I'd just moved in from D.C."

Steve smiled at the memory he knew Sam was about to recount.

"We worked out at the same gym. This asshole had the gall to correct my form. I mean, he was right, but still."

"You were going to hurt yourself!" Steve protested with a laugh.

"I'll hurt something," Sam muttered. Sam went on, describing the beginnings of Shield Designs, how the idea had gone from coffeeshop discussions, to a logo drawn up, to having a small office they shared above a bodega.

Steve was deeply proud of what they'd built, and he couldn't help but look up to see if Tony was impressed, but Tony's seat was now claimed entirely by Natasha. Movement behind her caught his eye and he saw Tony's back, retreating away towards the boat dock, shoulders hunched.

####    
~~Then~~

"Stop cheating!" Steve shoved at Tony with one elbow, keeping his hands steady on the controller. 

"I'm not cheating, you're cheating!" 

Tony's elbow shoved back, upsetting Steve's balance on the couch. He spread his legs wide to steady himself, but that pressed him up against Tony's side which made his stomach wriggle and writhe. This wasn't anything they hadn't done a million times before, but now, everytime Steve felt the warmth of Tony's body anywhere near him, he felt like fireworks were going off under his skin. Not exactly convenient feelings to have about the guy you shared a very small apartment with. They were always rubbing up against each other.

Not like  _ that.  _

Not that Steve hadn't thought about that…

"Ha!" Tony got a solid kick in and Steve was sucked back to the game. Competitiveness rolled through him in waves, obliterating the tingles of attraction. He bit down on his lip; he wouldn't lose.

Tony's character was faster, but Steve's hit harder, so all he needed was to get a few good shots in. He dodged, stepped back, then, when Tony's attention was on trying to make a combo, Steve struck hard; one-hit KO.

"Take that!" Steve tossed his controller aside and threw his hands up in celebration. 

"Argh!" Tony dropped his face into his hands then shoved at Steve's side, digging his fingers into his unprotected ribs. "You ass!"

Steve yelped and shoved back, snapping his elbow down to protect his ticklish armpit before Tony could find it. The shoving devolved into full-on roughhousing, until Steve used his size to his advantage and got Tony in a headlock. 

He wrestled him - grunting and protesting - back on his side of the couch then released him. Tony wriggled out of his hold, and Steve caught himself with one hand on the back of the couch, but it meant they were close, very close, Steve practically looming over Tony.  _ Sit back,  _ he told himself,  _ sit back now.  _ But he didn't move.

Tony's eyes fixed on his, so deep and expressive. They looked wild with thought. His breath was still heavy from their scuffle, but the frustration at losing had disappeared from his expression in the face of Steve's sudden closeness. He didn't move away either. 

"Hey," Tony said, barely more than a huff of a breath.

"Hey." Steve's eyes flicked down to Tony's mouth. His lips were parted, and as Steve watched, his tongue darted out and flicked against the bottom one. Steve leaned in. He didn't go all the way, he left the last few inches to Tony, giving him space to push away or laugh it off, or yell. But instead, Tony took those inches all in a rush, jolting forward and slamming himself into Steve.

Steve caught Tony in his arms, hauling him up in his lap as their lips met. Tony was a warm, sweet, solid weight on Steve's legs, and he gripped him tighter, adrenaline shooting through him and making his heart pound. "Tony…" he murmured against Tony's lips, and Tony hummed, tipping his chin and pushing the kiss deeper. 

Steve felt like he was electrified. Everything he'd wanted so desperately for the last two weeks was finally being handed to him and he couldn't believe it was all real. Tony wanted him. Tony wanted  _ him?  _ And by the way he was kissing, like a drowning man searching for a last breath of air, he did want him, a lot.

When Tony's hands slipped up under the hem of Steve's shirt, a sudden thought had Steve freezing to marble. "Tony, wait."

"Hmm?" Tony noticed after a moment that he wasn't getting the same enthusiastic response. He sat back on Steve's legs. "What's wrong?"

His hair was wild, cheeks bright with a dusting of pink, and his lips were slick and flushed, begging to be kissed again. "I -" Steve briefly forgot how to speak, stunned by the vision of a rucked up, messy, eager Tony straddling his thighs. "I just want to, um, be sure, I guess. I just - uh -"

Tony fidgeted, eyes flicking out to the corners of the room and back. "Um. Sure about what? Sorry. Was that not okay?"

"No! No. That was - um. Wow. That was great. I just want to make sure that you know that I'm, you know, hoping to, uh - I hope this is the start of something?" Steve tried to put it into words. Tony was younger and looked up to Steve, that much was clear, and he'd said himself that he wasn't much for casual flings, but still… "If it's not, then we should -" Steve took a heavy breath "- stop."

"Start of something? Like -?"

"I'd like - would you want to be my boyfriend?" Steve resisted the urge to tack,  _ please,  _ onto the end. "We might want to keep it to ourselves for a little while, but that's what I'd like."

Tony broke into a wide grin that lit up his entire face.  _ "Shit,  _ yes!" He dove, and Steve caught him, tumbling back into half-laughter, half-kisses, the next round of their game entirely forgotten.

**

The next three weeks were some of the craziest, funnest, silliest weeks of Steve's life. He knew he was shirking his other responsibilities, but he couldn't bear to spend a minute elsewhere that could be spent at Tony's side instead. They decided to keep it to themselves, for now, both fully aware of the look Bucky would give them if he knew. And they would have to tell, eventually, but for now, it was fun, adding an element of danger and suspense, and it was just for them, no outside pressure.

And outside pressure was something Steve was painfully aware of. Tony was his roommate, and four years younger than him, and he had no doubt that all of their friends would be less than enthusiastic about their budding relationship. Not out of any unkindness, but out of genuine concern. And that almost made it harder. Steve lay awake at night, painfully aware of Tony breathing softly on the other side of the wall, and talked through a hundred conversations with Bucky in his head, none of which seemed to go right for him. He couldn't even work up a proper grump in these imaginary arguments because it wasn't like Bucky was  _ wrong.  _ He just didn't know.

Bucky didn't know what Tony did to him. How seeing his face light up when Steve came home from work, or the way his eyes went wide and wild, unfocused, while he talked about his thesis, or the way he still, after seven months, couldn't do laundry at all made Steve  _ hum.  _ His feelings for Tony felt like a real, physical presence, deep inside his chest, low, sitting on his diaphragm and making it hard to get a full breath in. How could he explain that to Bucky? Bucky still liked a night, or even a long weekend, with someone he met at a club or a bar. Steve had never seen him take the same person on more than four dates before they went their separate ways. How could he possibly understand that Steve knew the risks, knew this was going to be complicated and tricky, and terrifying, but was still so utterly worth trying?

So they didn't tell. 

It was easy enough to get time together. Bucky was working long shifts now, and Steve only worked at the range Monday to Wednesday mornings. That meant he and Tony usually had a few days a week alone together at the apartment, and they made good use of them. They hadn't gone beyond some heated kissing, and perhaps a little overenthusiastic groping, but getting to sit on the couch and watch a movie with his head pillowed on Tony's legs, or work at his desk with Tony curled in his lap, leaning over his shoulder to read a book, getting to kiss him whenever he wanted - his lips, his hair, his cheeks - or wrestle in the kitchen while they made lunch, turning rough-housing into more-grin-than-kiss make-out-sessions was Steve's entire world. 

This apartment had always felt like home, but Tony made it more. With Bucky and Tony there, Steve had everything he could ever want, all in one place. 

Tony tumbled out of his bedroom and straight into Steve's lap. "Morning." 

Steve tossed his pen aside and wrapped his arms around Tony's waist. He pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Morning."

Tony picked up the remains of Steve's breakfast toast and shoved it in his mouth, smacking his lips and curling his nose at the unsweetened peanut butter. Steve laughed fondly and drew him into a kiss, licking peanut butter and toast crumbs off his tongue.

Tony pulled back with a hum and smoothed his hand over Steve's chest. "So… I was thinking…"

"Risky business," Steve said with a smile. He tapped Tony's temple. "Wouldn't want to overheat it."

"Har, har." Tony wiggled on his lap, and Steve could see for the first time that there was an odd pinch to the corner of his eyes. "You know how Bucky's out tonight?"

"Yeah." Steve frowned. "You know he'll be awake any minute?"

"I know, but I wanted to talk to you about tonight."

"Did you want to go to Nat's party after all? Cause I'm sure it'll be fun, but it's right after your class and I feel like the transit problem is a real one." Steve reached around Tony and picked up his pencil again.

"No. I don't want to go. Look, I think we should talk -"

Bucky's door opened, and Tony levitated out of Steve's lap and across the room. He landed in a chair by the kitchen table, screeching slightly over the tile. Somehow, he had Steve's plate with him and was polishing off the rest of the toast as if he'd been there all along. 

Bucky shuffled into the kitchen. "Morning," he mumbled. 

"Morning, Buck." 

Bucky stuck his head in the fridge, and Tony caught Steve's eye behind his back.  _ We need to talk,  _ he mouthed, looking concerned, and Steve's stomach dropped out.

He rewound through everything Tony had said. Tony didn't want to go to the party. He wanted to talk instead. About something important. And he looked stressed, distressed, even. He wanted them to talk. Alone. The world screeched to a halt. Was Tony breaking up with him before they'd even held hands in public, let alone told their friends? Steve turned back to his desk so Bucky wouldn't see his face and doodled randomly across the page while he scanned through every moment he and Tony had spent together over the last few weeks. He'd thought it was going well. Tony seemed happy…

Despite several furtive looks Tony shot Steve, there was nothing he could do. Bucky wouldn't leave until after Steve, and if Tony and Steve squirreled away to talk alone in one of their rooms, Bucky would be deeply suspicious. 

Steve tried texting him  _ What's wrong?  _ But Tony just shook his head, cheeks pinking. 

In the end, there was nothing for it. Steve had to get ready and go to work, leaving Tony and his unanswered question behind with Bucky unknowingly standing between them. Steve marched down the street to the subway, tension radiating through him. This hiding thing was getting harder and harder. Not that it mattered, because Tony was going to break up with him anyway.

His shift was the longest in history. He barely registered what he was saying to people as they came in. Luckily, they were all old clients and he didn't have to give any safety speeches. When the clock ticked over, he was out of the range like a shot, racing for the subway.

He slammed through the door and ran up the stairs. "Tony?"

The living room was empty, no Tony at the table, or at his desk. He poked his head in the open door to Tony's bedroom: no-one. Dread was starting to weigh him down. He pulled his phone out to call him, when he pushed open his own bedroom door and found Tony standing by his bed. He startled up at Steve's entrance, slamming the bedside table drawer shut with his knee. His face inflamed. 

"What -? Tony what are you doing?" It came out more accusatory than he intended, and he winced when Tony flinched away from his harsh tone. 

"Sorry." Tony wound his fingers together. "Only, we didn't get a chance to talk this morning and the store closes soon so I thought maybe you'd have - I didn't want to go, but also -  _ ugh." _

Steve stepped forward and slipped his hand in Tony's, relieved when he didn't pull away. He guided Tony to the bed and sat down beside him. "What did you want to talk about this morning?"

Tony swallowed heavily. He dropped his eyes to his lap and fiddled with his fingers. "Bucky's out all night tonight. He said he was going to stay over at Natasha's…"

"Yeah…?"

Tony gave him a significant look. "So… I kinda thought you and I could… you know…  _ have a third date." _

"Oh. Oh!" Steve felt his cheeks heat. Relief flooded through him like a heady drug. "You really want to? I mean, you're ready?"

Tony smiled. "Yeah… I mean -  you know you're not my first, though, right? I mentioned that? Cause it's not that I -"

"I know." Steve wound their fingers together. "You're not my first either, but, uh, you're the first person I've ever felt this way about. I just want to do this right."

Tony shuffled forward, leaned in for a soft kiss. "It feels right to me."

"Okay," Steve breathed. "Okay."

Tony bit his lip. "So, um. I wanted to talk to you this morning because I was hoping you might stop at the store and get, um, supplies. I don't have anything. Then I thought maybe you'd have some already. So, I was checking your drawer, sorry." 

Steve snorted then broke into uncontained laughter. "Oh my god, Tony. You scared the crap out of me! I thought you wanted to break up with me!"

"What!" Tony looked shocked then started laughing too. "Why?"

"You said you needed to talk to me alone."

"That's ridiculous. You're ridiculous." Tony pushed Steve onto his back on the bed and climbed on top. "You're insane." He nuzzled his way along Steve's jaw, pressing light kisses across his cheek. "I can't believe I fell in love with someone this insane."

They both froze.

Tony sat up. "I mean - I know it's early -"

"No. No. I love you too," Steve said in a rush, the words tumbling out with the tiny half-breath he'd been able to draw. 

"Oh, shit." Tony clapped a hand over his mouth then started laughing again. He dipped down for another kiss, still laughing. "This is the best fucking day ever. I love you so much."

Steve rolled them over so Tony was pinned under him and he pressed closer, watching while Tony's eyes went darker and widened. "I've got 'supplies,' don't worry," Steve whispered into his ear. He kissed Tony's neck softly, feeling a shudder wrack his frame. "Let me show you how much I love you."

Tony's arms came up and wrapped around him, pulling him close. "God, yes."


	5. Chapter 5

####  **~~Now~~**

Steve was dropping off to sleep in the hammock when Nat bumped his hip and startled his eyes open. "What?"

"We're going out on the boat. Do you want to come?"

Steve sat up and saw a group of people in swimsuits and towels collecting coolers and floaties by the dock. Steve stretched; sleep was still floating around him. "Hmm. Maybe. Give me a minute."

He watched, blinking himself all the way awake, while she crossed the lawn to talk to Tony. She asked him, presumably, the same thing, and he shook his head. So, now it looked like Steve's choices were to stay back and be essentially alone with Tony, or join the crew on the boat. When Sam came out in his swim trunks with a towel slung around his neck, that cinched it. Steve trotted into the house, calling out that they should wait for him. 

He changed quickly, pulling on trunks and a t-shirt. He downed a glass of cold water to help wake him up, and by the time he hit the dock, he was actually looking forward to a boat ride. Until he saw that Tony, who had very clearly said no before, was standing on the dock too, twisting a towel between his hands and staring daggers at the back of Sam's head. He jumped when Steve sidled up behind him, shot him an entirely unreadable look, and squeezed forward through the crowd until he was standing with Clint and Natasha.

Steve hid his own eyes behind a pair of sunglasses and helped load the boat. It took a surprisingly long time to get eight people and their stuff settled into the motorboat, but finally everyone had a seat, their bags tucked tightly between their feet. Clint's uncle had a boating license - or at least claimed to, and no one felt it was in their best interest to ask to see proof - so he took the wheel.

The boat took off, chugging serenely at first, then ramping up as they broke free of the small bay the cabin backed on to. The lake broke fully and he let the throttle go, bringing her up to speed. Steve gripped the railing and turned his face into the wind and cool spray, unable to stop a smile from spreading. The speed was exhilarating, everyone grinning and laughing as they bounced along over the water. 

They took a long arc around the widest part of the lake, slowing down to admire the pretty shoreline, then stopped by a bright orange buoy and dropped the small anchor.

Sam nudged Steve in the side. "Are you swimming?"

"Sure, why not." Steve stripped his shirt off then stilled as he caught sight of Tony doing the same out of the corner of his eye. He tried not to look. He tried really hard.

When he'd known Tony, shared his bed, had the right to touch every inch of him, Tony had been slight and lean, living off ramen and pizza then burning it all off buzzing around at a million miles an hour. Now… the hints of shapely shoulders and a trim waist that Steve had seen under his clothes were nothing to the full view. Steve stared openly as Tony tugged his shirt off, thankfully turned away, and stretched up tall. His back rippled. He clearly worked out, carefully chiseled muscles lining each side of his spine. He turned, and Steve raked his eyes over abs that should be featured in a magazine - knowing Tony, they probably had - then halted. Tony had a massive, twisted, white scar across the centre of his chest. It was rough and crude, not from a doctor's scalpel, from something else. 

Steve snapped his eyes out to the water before Tony could catch him ogling. Tony, for his part, didn't seem self-conscious about his scar, loitering on the deck of the boat for a while before jumping in with the others. 

The water was too enticing to resist for long, so Steve dove in too, stretching out long to slip under the surface. The lake was cool where the sun had been hot, and Steve's overheated skin sighed with relief as he stretched out and kicked gently, staying underwater as long as possible. When he could no longer comfortably hold his breath, Steve broke the surface with a gasp and shook wet hair out of his eyes. 

Light laughter broke over the gentle lapping of the water and the buzzing of summer air. A dragonfly meandered past. Even with the occasional spine-shuddering brush of unknown plant life against his ankle, the lake was a wonderfully peaceful place to be. They were far enough out that he couldn't touch the bottom - didn't even want to try - but he treaded water easily and watched the younger generation begin to organize everyone into a game.

The buoy marked a very large rock that had conveniently placed footholds, and it wasn't long before the kids were taking turns climbing up then flinging themselves off it, back into the water. Steve wasn't surprised at all to see Scott among them.

After a few laps around the boat, Steve was feeling pleasantly cool, and as he cut across the stern, he saw Tony was out of the water now, shaking droplets out of his hair and rubbing a towel down his arms. 

_ Maybe you need to talk to him.  _ Sam's words floated through Steve's mind. It was a good place to do it. It was private enough, up on the boat, but not so private that it felt like Steve was cornering him, and they wouldn't be alone for long before the others decided to head back in to the cabin.

Steve climbed the ladder and pulled himself up next to Tony. He grabbed his own towel and rubbed it over his hair then tossed it aside. Tony was sitting on the bench now, eyes down, fingers tapping on his phone screen.

"Hey." Steve leaned against the railing, too twitchy to sit, twisting his hands around the overheated metal.

Tony looked up. "Uh. Hey."

Steve searched for words, but none would come and Tony was looking at him expectantly now. "Sam said I should talk to you."

Tony's expression clouded over. "Well. Wasn't that big of him," he muttered.

"I can leave." Steve gestured vaguely then realized it looked like he was suggesting he could tip himself overboard. Honestly, at this point, that wasn't looking like too bad of an option.

Tony softened. "It's okay." He took a breath and dropped his gaze to his hands, twisted together in his lap. "It's good to see you happy, you know? I mean, I'm glad things worked out for you."

"I - uh, thank you." Steve sat down on the bench opposite Tony. Was that the kind of thing they were supposed to talk about? All he could seem to come up with were memories, reminiscences.  _ Hey, remember that time we covered everything in Bucky's room in aluminum foil?  _ But it wasn't like that. "You too. I mean, I've seen what you've done with SI. It's incredible. You really turned it around."

"Thanks." There was something tight and cold in Tony's voice, and anxiety flushed through Steve's veins. Awkwardness was heavy around them.

Sam had been wrong, Steve shouldn't talk to Tony. This was only making it worse. But now he was trapped here, literally trapped in the middle of a lake with his only options being continue to awkwardly fumble for conversation or tip over the railing and drown himself. He glanced down at the water.  _ Say anything, Rogers!  _ He screamed at himself. "So. Did you ever get a pet?"

"What?" Tony tilted his head to the side the way he used to when he was young and he didn't understand something. It was painfully familiar.

"You always talked about - uh - about getting a pet. You wanted a dog." Steve shuffled uncertainly. Maybe he wasn't supposed to remember things about Tony. Maybe that was weird.

But a slow smile bloomed across Tony's face. "Huh. You're right. I did always say I was going to get a dog. Honestly, I'd pretty much forgotten about that. No… I never got a pet." He snorted to himself as if that was some kind of inside joke. "I still like dogs though. But too busy to own one, probably."

"Well, you could afford a dog walker."

Tony's brow creased. "Right."

Steve struggled to put the smile back on his face. "Congratulations on that innovator award. I heard about it on the news."

Tony hummed and stared out at the horizon. "Yeah… it was a great party, or so I heard. That reminds me, I owe Rhodey a car or something."

Steve was at a complete loss. "Okay…" The water was looking even more inviting. "How is Rhodey?"

"Great. Finally nailed down a desk job. Not as much flying around trying to get blown up as he used to."

"That's nice." Steve looked out at where the others were still playing some rather complicated looking version of water tag and silently begged for one of them to paddle back up to the boat and interrupt this trainwreck of a conversation.  _ Don't mention Sharon's advice,  _ he told himself firmly.

"So…" Tony said, then he trailed off, dragging one hand over the side of the boat into the water. "Sam. Seems great. That's good."

"Oh, uh, yeah. He's amazing. I would never have been able to get Shield Designs properly off the ground if not for him. He's so talented. I'm really really grateful for him. Keeps me level-headed too."

"That's -" Tony cleared his throat. "That's great, Steve."

"I was always afraid my degree would be utterly useless so it's nice that I'm getting to use it."

"And enjoying it?" Tony turned the full intensity of his attention on Steve and for a moment, all Steve could do was stare back. 

"Yeah, yeah. I love it."

Tony nodded to himself. "Yeah," he echoed.

Steve was in absolute agony. And even though it was awkward, this was the Tony he remembered. He radiated the same energy, the same - almost desperate - _ caring  _ that suffused his whole being. He shouldn't still care about Steve, not in the slightest, but his caring was palpable in the air. Even after seven years apart, he still remembered his old college flame well enough to genuinely wonder if he was happy. It was equal parts wonderful and devastating. Steve had spent all this time wishing that Tony still cared, still worried, still thought about him, and to find out that he did, that he did and he still had managed to fall out of love with him, was torture.  

Steve opened his mouth to say… something, anything, but thankfully Wanda chose that moment to climb out of the water, laughing and breathless, and flop on the deck. 

"Who's winning?" Tony asked, poking her arm with his foot. 

She laughed harder. "I have  _ no  _ idea!"

Tony leaned in. "You know… Scott has a weakness," Tony whispered.

Wanda brightened. "He does?"

"Yeah. The flexibility in his left shoulder is reduced, an old rotator cuff injury. If you get on that side, you've got him beat."

"Thank you, Tony!" Wanda leapt up and dived gracefully back into the water again.

Tony shot Steve a smile that was half uncertain and half cheeky smirk then tipped over to lie flat on the bench. His wet hair flopped in a halo around his head. The sun caught the water droplets that dotted his chest and stomach and made them glitter. Steve watched him for as long as he thought he could get away with then spread out himself to lie down on the opposite bench. 

It wasn't exactly comfortable, there was still altogether too much tension radiating between them, but it wasn't exactly uncomfortable, either.

 

####  **~~Then~~**

Steve stroked his hand down Tony's bare back, letting his fingertips bounce over each dip in his spine. 

"Mmm," Tony hummed. "Not sure I'm up for round two."

"I'm just… exploring," Steve said with a cheeky smile, drifting his hand lower. 

Tony squirmed away, managing to keep his head rested on Steve's chest while wriggling free of his hands. "Yeah, I know where exploring goes."

Steve chuckled and buried a kiss in Tony's hair, gathering him back up in his arms. He petted Tony's shoulders softly, drawing nonsense shapes on his skin. "I should go back to my room…"

"Why?" Tony stretched and rolled over, tipping on his side and looking up at Steve. "Bucky's out with Clint, he won't be back for hours. Stay."

Steve let his eyes fall shut, breathing in the salt-sweat and mint smell of Tony. "I'll fall asleep."

"So what? You'll wake up before him tomorrow."

"What I'll do is wake up every five minutes from three am on, wondering if I've overslept yet and he's going to get up and trap me in here with no clothes."

Tony was silent for a while. He snuggled closer, one finger tracing over Steve's chest. "We could tell him."

"Yeah?"

Tony shrugged. "Sure, why not? I mean, it's been over a month, we love each other, we're staying together, right? So why not?"

"Yes. We are." Steve pulled him closer. Things had gotten distinctly more difficult to keep quiet once they started sleeping together, and not just because Steve found it unbelievably difficult to literally keep quiet while Tony had his hands on him. The boundaries that being roommates with Bucky had provided in the beginning - a wall between "dating time" and "friends time" - had been nice at first, giving them a little breathing room from each other during the intense first few weeks of falling in love. But now it was starting to feel stifling instead. Steve wanted to be able to kiss Tony good morning, regardless of what time they woke up. He wanted to throw his legs over Tony's lap or wrap an arm around his shoulders while they had gang movie nights. He wanted to wake up with Tony here on his chest. But still, the conversation itself was likely to be an awkward one. He saw a future with Tony, though, so it was a talk they'd have to have eventually, and the longer they kept it a secret, the more likely it was to hurt Bucky's feelings when he did find out. "Yeah, okay. Let's do it."

Tony crawled up and drew Steve into another kiss. Apparently, he was up for round two after all, because the kisses shifted increasingly heated until Tony threw a leg over Steve's thighs and all thoughts of going back to his own room evaporated. Steve's hands wandered once more, lost in the heavy heat of Tony pressed against him. 

The front door banged open, and they both froze. 

"Dammit," Tony hissed. 

Bucky's bedroom door opened then closed as well. Steve grumbled and tipped back on the bed. If Bucky heard someone up, he'd probably get up too, wanting to tell them about the party. And Steve's evening with Tony had started in Steve's room and migrated in here when they realized they'd left the condoms in Tony's bedside drawer. Which meant, all Steve had was his boxers, and his bedroom door creaked like a bitch. 

"I'm stuck here until Bucky falls asleep." He sighed. "Either that or I risk it and try and sleep til morning."

Tony pressed his forehead to Steve's chest with a groan. "Every little sound will wake you up. Even Dummy will wake you up."

"Who's Dummy?"

"The mouse who lives in my wall."

"You have a mouse in your wall?!" Steve hissed. "Tony!"

"What? He's cool."

"He's not cool, he's vermin."

"I'm telling him you said that."

Steve slapped a hand over his face. He could hear the scraping and rustling of Bucky getting ready for bed in his room. 

Tony's hand wandered south. "You know… since you're stuck here anyway…"

They gave it an hour, to make sure Bucky was asleep. Among other things. Tony was half out of it by the time Steve rolled out of bed and rummaged around in the dark to find his boxers. When Tony made a token noise of protest, Steve bent and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "We'll tell Buck on the weekend, okay? And then we won't have to hide anymore."

"Okay…" Tony muttered. His eyes fluttered closed again.

Steve opened the door as slowly as he could and stepped along the edge near the wall, dodging the creakiest parts of the floor. He shuffled around his desk and the floor gave an almighty groan, making him freeze. He spun compulsively, to look at Bucky's door, at the same time that his brain caught up and realized that the noise hadn't been him. 

Clint was standing outside Bucky's door, pants on but undone, his shirt in his hands. His cheeks were bright red, his mouth hanging open. He looked at Steve then at Tony's bedroom door and realization spilled across his face, mixed in with his own humiliation. 

Steve looked back at him, one hand on Bucky's doorknob, a fresh hickey on his neck and one side of his hair stuck up like someone had run their hands through it. 

"Right," Clint said softly. "Um. Goodnight."

"Um." Steve blinked. He felt like he ought to say something? Apologize? But he didn't know why. Tell Clint he was okay with him and Bucky? But that was awkward. "Goodnight?"

Clint shot him a salute and made for the stairs, pulling his t-shirt over his head. A bright flush had crawled up the back of his neck.

Steve scurried back to his room, no longer worried about noise since any creaks, Bucky would surely attribute to Clint leaving. He collapsed in his bed, then realized he could have gone back to Tony's room instead. There was no way on earth Clint wasn't immediately texting Bucky what he'd just seen. Steve rummaged around on his bedside table until he got hold of his phone. The light blinded him for a moment, and he squinted at the blurry screen. Sure enough, a few minutes later, a text came through.

_ Tell me you're not going to fuck this up for both of us. _

Steve let out a tense breath. Could be worse. 

_ I'm not. I love him. He loves me too. It's good. Tell me you're not going to make my job unbearable. _

Bucky wrote him back almost immediately.

_ Good. He's an annoying little shit, but I'm fond of that kid. And we're absolutely going to make your job unbearable because we are def going to fuck on your desk at the range. _

_ Fuck you. _

There was a break of nearly a minute, and Steve was about to put his phone away when it lit up with another text.

_ I think I might be falling for him, actually. Shit. _

Steve turned off his phone and set it aside. He smiled up at the ceiling. 

The next morning, Steve got up late, exhausted from his disrupted night, to find Tony sitting at the table, feet pulled up on his chair, typing on his phone. "Hey, sweetie," Steve said.

"Morning."

Steve set about making breakfast. He had his bagel toasted and spread with butter when Bucky's door opened. Their eyes met for a moment over Tony's head, and Steve decided to break down the last wall. He stepped forward and pressed a kiss to the top of Tony's head. "Love you."

"Lo-" Tony cut off, wide eyes landing on Bucky. "Um." He looked at Steve in confusion, and Steve gave him an encouraging smile.

Bucky walked towards them, and Tony tensed under Steve's hands. "Gross," Bucky said. He brushed past and wrenched open the fridge. "Get a room."

"We have two, actually," Steve shot back. 

Bucky snapped a banana off the bunch and peeled it. "Yeah, well if you bring it down to one, we could get some extra rent for his hellhole. I'm going to do laundry. Bye, losers." He grabbed his basket and trotted down the stairs and out the door.

"What the heck was that?" Tony asked, spinning on his chair. 

"Bucky's got a boyfriend," Steve said smugly. "Saw him leaving last night. And just like that he has no legs to stand on, making a fuss about us."

"Why's that?"

Steve cupped Tony's jaw with one hand. He pressed a firm kiss to his lips then pulled back, still grinning. "Because his new boyfriend is my boss."

**

It could have been awkward - maybe should have been awkward - but it wasn't. Clint slid smoothly into their lives, the way he slid into everything. Bucky wasn't one for for PDA, but anyone who knew him as well as Steve did could see that he was totally gone for the range owner. He had this way of blinking up at him that made Steve need to duck his head to hide his smirk. 

Steve was relieved to find that Tony and Bucky's relationship hadn't been damaged by the shift. They still spent time together, and Steve still came home to find them duking it out with controllers. In fact, now that Bucky had Clint, he went out less. Fewer bars, clubs, fewer parties. Clint gently eased him into homelife, and though many of their nights were spent at Clint's place, Steve actually saw more of Bucky now than he had before. 

He expected work, then, to be the place where the other shoe dropped, but that too was easier. He'd always been friendly with Clint, but now they were actual friends. Catching each other doing the walk of shame had broken the last little bit of ice between them, and, though Clint was always carefully fair with all of his staff, it showed in small subtle ways that Steve was family now.

And that's what it felt like: a family. They'd built it the hard way, but each day only made Steve love Tony more, even when his inexperience with being on his own was painfully evident, even when he was whining about money or fighting with his thesis project. 

They kept their own rooms, and to Steve's surprise, more often than not, they slept apart. Bizarrely, they managed to keep up the boundaries that might have been in place if they weren't living together. Steve didn't go into Tony's room uninvited, and, the night with the panicked condom search notwithstanding, vice versa. 

They had dates, cheap and simple as they were, and a few nights a week, if Bucky was out, they'd curl up in Steve's larger bed. Waking up with Tony was special enough that Steve enjoyed that it wasn't every night. He didn't know how he'd ever get out of bed at all if it were. Tony snuffled and muttered in his sleep and always pulled Steve closer again with a soft whine if he tried to shift away. Drifting off to Tony pressed against his back, breath hot between his shoulder blades, one arm curled over Steve's hip so it could tuck between his thighs was the safest most comfortable place Steve had ever found. 

It only got better when Tony's best friend Rhodey came for a visit while Clint was over and the two of them got on like a house on fire. Steve would have laughed at the matching pouts of mild jealousy sported by Tony and Bucky as they watched Rhodey and Clint discuss their favourite tv shows with hard-to-match intensity, except Steve was sure it was the exact same face he made whenever Tony and Bucky shared one of their inside jokes. That was the weirdest kind of jealousy because Tony was his boyfriend and Bucky was his best friend so he was kind of jealous of both of them, in the best sort of way.

Summer came and Tony's classes finished. He got a nice bonus for having excellent student reviews, and he immediately got a paying internship at a local CAD design company. It was simple work, compared to what he was doing for his thesis, but it paid well, and it was only four days a week, which meant - after a little finagling of his own schedule - Steve and Tony still had a three day weekend to spend together every week. 

Summer lolled by in under-air-conditioned, lazy bliss, a haze of popsicles, video games, and Tony - bare-skinned and sweaty, wrapped in Steve's arms.


	6. Chapter 6

####  **~~Now~~**

Wind blown and sun struck, everyone took to their rooms to change before dinner. Dinner was spaghetti and meatballs made by committee which involved a lot of laughter, some yelling, and one, small, sauce-related incident. But an hour later, everyone was seated around the huge dining table, digging into salad, pasta, and garlic bread. 

After, someone suggested a fire, and they dragged chairs, blankets, and bowls of popcorn outside before it was too dark to see. Bucky got the fire going, despite Clint trying to help, and it was no small miracle that they were still engaged by the time it was blazing. 

Couples curled up into chairs together, Bucky and Clint shoved into an umbrella chair next to Steve. Steve tried not to let jealousy overwhelm him. He also tried to keep his eyes from seeking out Tony, seated on the other side of the firepit, wrapped in a big hoodie with a package of cookies in his lap. Since Steve knew exactly how many cookies Tony had eaten, he was pretty sure he was failing at that one.

The summer night was cool but the fire was hot. A soft breeze kept the smoke to one direction and drove the bugs away. Steve slumped down in his chair and let the crackling wood and sweet smell lull him into a happy doze.

"Hey, Sam. Where's Misty? She couldn't come?" Scott asked when conversation died down.

"She's in Spain, if you'll believe it," Sam said. "Business trip." He snorted affectionately. "Go into corporate insurance, I'm telling you. Couple times a year she gets these all expenses paid trips to go to 'conferences' and get wasted with her coworkers. Sweet deal."

"You ever get to go with her?"

"Yeah, we managed it once. That was pretty nice. Hawaii." Sam reached over and clapped Steve on the back. "Steve here was kind enough to cover things while we skived off."

"You deserved it," Steve said kindly. "You two both work too hard."

Movement caught Steve's eye, and he realized that Tony had unfolded himself from his chair and was staring at Sam with a cookie held loosely in his hand, halfway to his mouth, forgotten. "Who's Misty?" he asked.

"Sam's wife," Nat said.

"Hey now, we never made it official," Sam pointed out.

Steve snorted. "You're never going to, though. Might as well call her your wife at this point."

Sam shrugged. "Suppose so. Just don't let her catch you saying that." He laughed.

Tony stood suddenly. He was still looking oddly at Sam, his eyes dark and intense. "I have to - uh -" He dropped the cookies on his chair and walked back up towards the cabin. Nat watched him go, but she didn't follow.

Tony didn't reappear as the conversation devolved into raucous laughter and then slightly inebriated singing. When Bucky started telling the story of the time Steve had "tried to fight a vending machine," Steve suddenly noticed his beer was empty and set off towards the house to get another one. "It stole my money!" he called back over his shoulder, and the crowd set off laughing again.

The firepit was set quite a ways from the main cabin, and Steve had time to feel the chill air and pressing silence as he crossed the lawn. He was almost at the front steps when he remembered Tony. He'd come up to the house and hadn't returned. Maybe he'd gone to bed. Steve slowed to a stop. Did he really want to risk running into Tony again? Their conversation on the boat had been almost civil, but Steve had a few beers in him now and so did Tony. It'd be a shame to ruin their almost-truce now.

But at the same time, Steve wanted to see him again. He wanted to be around him, he wanted to be alone with him, he wanted to watch him move and talk and hear his voice. It was exquisite torture, and he was lapping up as much as he could.

He pushed open the front door, torn between wanting and needing, and his heart simultaneously sang and plummeted when he saw Tony perched on one of the kitchen stools. Steve was rocketed back to a three-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn, any given weekday morning. A seven-years-younger Tony waiting at the kitchen table for Steve to kiss him good morning and make them both breakfast. It was so painfully far away now.

Steve allowed himself a moment to watch him before he said "Hey," to announce his presence.

Tony spun around. "Oh, hey. Sorry, I didn't mean to disappear." He held up his phone. "Work."

"It's alright." Steve waved his empty bottle in explanation and crossed over to the fridge. He pulled out a fresh beer and popped the top off but found himself leaning back against the counter to take a swig instead of heading back out again. He couldn't even kid himself that it was for any other reason than to get to see Tony more. His heart ached.

"So, get this," Tony said, tapping away at his phone. "My new assistant likes to attach animal gifs to the bottom of her emails in the hopes that it'll actually get me to scroll to the bottom."

Steve laughed. "Does it work?"

"Yeah. Still don't read 'em, but I'll scroll for otters. Look at this one." Tony turned his phone and held it out, and Steve leaned in to look. It was a gif of a dog grabbing its own blanket from the top of its crate and curling up inside, completely burritoed in the blanket. It flashed "#Sunday" at the bottom. Steve watched it three times, not sure if it was that good or if he was just enjoying being pressed up against Tony's side too much.

"That's - that's actually really cute." Steve shook his head. "As a designer, I have something to say about that font colour, though."

Tony laughed. "That's half the charm."

"If you say so."

They fell into silence again, and Steve wondered if he should leave. But before he could convince his feet to move, Tony set his phone down and turned to him. "Hey, um. So, I think Sam and I got off on the wrong foot. I mean, I realize he might just hate me by default but I wasn't really giving him a chance on my end and I feel kinda bad for that. If you talk to him, can you tell him I'm sorry if I came off kind of… cold or something? He seems nice. I'd like to get to know him."

Steve blinked at him. Where had that come from? "Uh… yeah sure. I don't think he noticed anything, though. Or he didn't say anything to me about it. And he doesn't hate you by default, Tony." Steve's voice dropped low. "I don't tell my friends to hate you."

"You could," Tony muttered at the counter. "I'd get it."

"I don't." Steve wasn't sure if he was saying he didn't tell people that, or he didn't hate Tony. He wondered which one Tony heard. His jaw worked for a moment, trying to figure out which words to spill out when Tony shifted, and Steve blurted out, "I don't hate you." No, he loved him. It was worse.

Tony turned wide eyes on him. The same eyes from a lifetime ago. The same eyes Steve had fallen for. "Really?"

"Of course, really. It - I mean, I remember… it was good, right?" Steve felt like his heart was vibrating in his chest. This was the first time they'd talked about their relationship since a hotel room in LA, and it was making Steve feel like he was going to throw up and scream at the same time.

"It was good," Tony echoed. 

"I remember that time fondly," Steve admitted, taking a steadying breath. "Well, when I can face remembering it at all."

Tony winced. "You're happy, right?"

It was the same question Steve had been asking himself for seven years. He was happy, right? He could be happy without Tony? "Yeah, I'm happy. Not all the time, and not in every way. I don't think anyone gets that. But I'm happy. I love my job, my apartment, my friends."

"Okay good." Tony huffed out a shaky breath. "No, um, do you have a someone?"

Steve froze there for a moment, eyes fixed on Tony. All he said was, "No," but it felt like it had a novel's-worth of feelings packed inside the tiny word. Tony swallowed hard, clearly reading it as easily as he always had. That hadn't changed.  _ No, I lost the only someone I ever wanted. No, I miss you too much to ask someone to fill the hole in my heart. No, you were it for me.  _

Tony dropped his eyes again and fiddled with his phone. "Nat says you sold some of your paintings?" he tried.

"Oh, yeah. It was kind of random. A friend needed to fill gallery space last minute so I let her use some of my stuff and someone wanted to buy one and ended up buying two others that hadn't been in the show. I sort of dipped back into painting for a while"

"That's great. I always loved your paintings."

"Thanks." Steve took another drink to give his mouth something to do. He tried to think of something to ask Tony. It felt like Tony drove every conversation they'd had this week, and Steve didn't want it to seem like he wasn't interested in Tony's life. While at the same time not revealing that he was actually much too interested in Tony's life. "Do you still have time to build robots?"

Tony chuckled. "Oh yeah. I built a robot version of Dummy the Mouse, you know." His eyes twinkled.

"No way!"

"Yeah. He's quite a bit bigger. And doesn't chew holes in my socks, but he's pretty great."

"You said Dummy never chewed anything!" Steve smacked Tony's shoulder then snapped his hand back when he realized he'd just touched him. But Tony was laughing.

"I didn't want you to get a mouse trap! He was my friend."

"God, you're so lucky we didn't end up with a whole mouse family in there. And we're all lucky Scott still took the room."

Tony snorted. "Scott would happily live in a dumpster."

Steve rolled his eyes. Their laughter died down slowly and uncomfortable silence wrapped around them again. There was so much more Steve wanted to say. He wanted to tell Tony that as much as it hurt, it was worth it. He wanted to tell him that he was happy now, but never so happy as he had been back then, when they'd been broke and lost and confused, but together. He wanted to pull him into his arms and breathe him again, finding that unchangeable Tony scent under wood smoke and unfamiliar laundry soap.

But instead, Steve grabbed a fresh bag of chips and another beer and gestured towards the door. "You coming back out?"

Tony glanced down at his phone again then tucked it in his pocket. "Sure."

They walked back down to the fire, shoulder to shoulder. Steve could feel Tony's sweatshirt brushing against his arm as they walked.

A pile of children had claimed Tony's chair, as well as his cookies, so he drew up a new chair, and to Steve's surprise, he dropped it between Steve's chair and Sam's and immediately drew Sam into conversation.

Steve gave up all pretenses, sleepiness drawing him low in his seat, curled around his half-full beer bottle, eyes fixed on Tony. He watched the flickering light dance through Tony's hair, bright in his eyes as he talked to Sam, engaged and interested. Smoke curled around his head, tiny orange embers catching the breeze and floating past Tony's head like fireflies. There would never come a time when Steve didn't think that Tony was utterly beautiful. Even when they didn't know each other, even when they were struggling to get along as roommates, and even now, living day-to-day with a bootprint in his heart the exact size and shape of Tony's foot, Steve still thought he looked perfect, cheeks pink with sun and wind from the boat, curls gone wild, heavy sweatshirt swallowing him in its bulk, sleeves hanging over his hands. 

He had new lines around his eyes, and some of the bright innocence of his smile had faded. The baby fat was gone, replaced with new edges and corners - a sharp jawline and defined cheekbones. He'd filled out too, the softness of youth refined into a lean musculature that Steve had caught sight of when he'd stripped down on the boat. It was different, but no less perfect.

Steve was pretty sure that no matter what came between them, he'd always think Tony was the most beautiful man on earth.

 

####  **~~Then~~**

Steve pulled a tangled nest of wires out of a box. "Do you ever use any of these?"

"Of course I do." Tony pouted. "I use all of them all the time."

"Sure." Steve rolled his eyes and dropped the wires back in the box. "How are we going to fit all this in my room?"

"Our room," Tony corrected, batting his eyelashes.

Steve dropped his trash bag and put his hands on his hips. "Don't think you can get me to forget what a hellhole this room is by being cute."

"I'm always cute."

"That's why I'm immune to it. It may have worked early on, but now I know your wiley ways and I've built up a tolerance."

"Oh yeah?" Tony smirked, shifting around a stack of linens to find the edge of Steve's space.

"Yeah." Steve pointed a threatening finger at him. "Tony Stark don't you dare distract me. We have to get this room cleaned out. It's been weeks!"

"So, what harm will another day do?" Tony wrapped his arms around Steve's neck and shuffled up until they were chest-to-chest. "Let me distract you, baby."

"Oh for the love of -" Steve grabbed Tony around the waist and spun, flinging him on his old, unmade bed with a whoop. Steve landed on top, pinning him down. He kissed him twice then again on the end of his nose. His voice softened. "If you don't want to move in with me…"

"Of course I do." Tony settled a hand on either side of Steve's face, stroked his thumbs over his cheeks. "I do. Desperately. But I mean, I already share with you in all the ways that count. I'm just so stressed with my thesis defense coming up that I'm finding it hard to have the energy to do all this. I'm sorry."

"It's alright." Steve rolled so they were side-by-side. "I get it. What if you stay here on the bed, and I'll hold things up and you say keep or trash?"

Tony tugged him closer, hooking his knee over Steve's legs. "How about I just keep you?"

The door slammed open. "You all better be decent up there!" Clint called. "We've got company." 

"What's this 'we'?" Tony called back. "You don't even live here."

Footsteps pounded up the stairs, and Natasha appeared in the doorway. She eyed them up. "Gross." 

Tony patted the bed beside him. "Always room for one more."

Steve tugged him closer with a frown. "No there's not."

"I thought you moved out of here ages ago," Nat said.

"I did." Tony shrugged. "I mean I moved in with Steve, I just didn't move out of here. It's a multistage process."

"Well, hurry up, we're going to play Monopoly."

Tony rolled out of the bed and drew Steve up after him. He started puttering around in the room, kicking things into vague piles and tossing the occasional soldering iron in a box. "Why are we playing Monopoly?"

"Because instead of money you pay your rent in taking shots. And I want to get Clint drunk and get him to spill secrets."

"Ooh, I'm in!" Tony dropped the trash bag and bounded out of the room.

Steve tidied up a few more things then joined them. Bucky, Clint, Natasha, Bruce, and Tony were all gathered around the board. Three bottles and a line of shot glasses sat next to the pile of hotels and game pieces. "Do you seriously take a shot every time you land on someone's square?"

"Actually," Bruce said, "you have a choice."

"Shot or a secret," Natasha added. "Everyone starts out picking the shots and then shifts more and more towards secrets. I'm hoping to get Bucky's ATM PIN if I snag Boardwalk."

"You can have it," Bucky said with a snort. "Ain't nothin' in there anyway!"

"I'm playing the long game," she said with a smile.

"I'm terrified, but also kinda touched that you think I'll have money someday."

Natasha hadn't been kidding. The game was ruthless, and it wasn't long before everyone was slurring and blushing, knocking back shots and sharing secrets. As predicted, they all started out getting drunk then swapped to revealing their deepest darkest when the alcohol buzzed away their inhibitions and the threat of more made their stomachs churn.

"How do you win?" Tony asked, struggling slightly to hand the dice to Clint without tipping over.

Bruce blinked at him. "I don't know. No one ever has. I think it's more of the 'who loses the least' kind of game."

Clint rolled and the whole table cheered while he groaned. He counted off, even though he knew where he was heading, landing on Pacific and then banging his forehead down onto the table.

"Shot or secret!" Natasha sing-songed.

"Oh god, I'm so drunk. Okay, I'll do a secret." He looked around like he was trying to find a secret fluttering around the room. "Okay, Bucky is fucking crazy in bed."

Bucky yelled, "Barton!" at the same time that Steve slapped his hands over his ears and cried out and Natasha burst into laughter.

"Alright, that's more than I've ever wanted to know about Bucky. I'm out," Steve said, now that he was no longer sure his feet would actually work and everyone had learned about an entire chapter of his childhood that he'd rather not be public knowledge.

When Steve pushed to his feet, Tony followed, somewhat wobbly. "Me too."

The visitors started the process of leaving. Steve was pretty sure Clint wouldn't be among them; they'd shared enough breakfasts at this point that it was pretty clear Clint was becoming a permanent fixture at their apartment. Steve and Tony each downed a large glass of water and got ready for bed, snuggling up together in Steve's room. "We've gotta have you moved out by this weekend," Steve said.

"Fair enough." Tony shifted closer, his breathing softening. "Hey, Steve?" Tony said, long after Steve was sure he'd nodded off. 

"Yes?"

"So, I had an idea…" Tony drew a random pattern on Steve's back with one finger. 

"Okay."

"I know we can't really afford the time off work, but an old friend of my dad's who still talks to me has a cottage upstate that he's not using and he gave me the door code if I ever wanted to borrow it. It's my birthday in two weeks, so I was kind of thinking… maybe we could take sort of a long weekend break together?"

Steve smiled into the dark. "That sounds amazing. I think I can swing it. I'll just work ahead on a few projects, ask Clint to switch a few shifts for me. I'd love to go. That's a great idea."

They pooled their money to rent a car. Tony was the only one with a license, so he drove while Steve wrestled with the GPS in the passenger seat. They beat their way up the long, winding highways to find a beautiful, private cottage nestled in the woods. It wasn't as opulent as Steve expected, belonging to a friend of Tony's father, but it was sweet and secure and homey, and they both fell in love with it right away. 

Which was good, because it rained the entire time.

All their plans to hike, to make picnics, to cook over a fire or figure out the barbeque were dashed. They ended up spending three days living off tinned soup, curled up together in a chair designed for one. It was sheer heaven, and every time the wind picked up and rattled the tree branches against the windows they looked at each other and burst out laughing.

When the power went out on the second day, they ran every device dead, then resorted to old school options. There was a cupboard full of board games, and while none of them would work with two people, there were also a few jigsaw puzzles inside. They did a couple smaller ones then moved onto the biggest, a 2000 piece monster, of a mosaic of different chocolates and candies laid out on worryingly similar looking bits of lace and china. 

They both had the same approach to puzzles, methodically going through the box to sort out the edge pieces, then building in from there. Steve was halfway through a collection of artfully displayed truffles when he remembered something. He checked his watch. 12:06. "Happy Birthday!"

Tony startled up from where he'd been frowning at a box of turkish delight and a box of jujubes. "What?"

"It's your birthday, happy birthday."

His smile spread slowly. "Wow." Then he threw his hands in the air. "I can drink!"

Steve laughed. "Oh yeah, that'll be a real fresh experience for you."

"Shut up, Rogers, get me a beer."

"You've already had two tonight."

"Yeah but this is my first legal beer. It'll taste different."

"Alright, but only cause it's your birthday. You can get it legally now which means you can get your own." He ruffled his hands through Tony's hair as he walked by, and Tony chuckled.

Steve returned with the beer and a small, wrapped box, the corners of the paper torn and bent from riding up at the bottom of his duffle.

Tony set the beer aside, forgotten, and picked up the box. "What's this?"

"Happy birthday."

Tony blinked at him, the flickering light of a host of oil lanterns making his eyes bright and warm. "You didn't have to get me anything. I thought this was my present." He gestured at the cottage at large.

Steve shrugged. "It's nothing big. I've had it for a while. It's - uh - it's probably silly. I mean… you don't -" Steve waved a hand, cutting himself off. "Just open it."

"Okay."

Steve fidgeted with a stack of puzzle pieces while Tony ripped at the wrinkled paper. He freed a box which he popped open. Inside was a watch. It wasn't anything fancy. It wasn't near as nice as the watch Tony had been wearing when he'd first come to live with them, but that one had long died in a skinny dipping incident, and Tony hadn't worn one since. Watches were a symbol, a sign of status, and Steve was nervous that Tony wouldn't want one that didn't boast a hefty price tag, but he'd done his best to choose one that felt like Tony in other ways. It was solid, not small but not clunky, and the band and face were decorated with shiny plates of red and gold metal. It looked somehow… futuristic, like it had James Bond-esque secrets contained inside. "It's okay if you don't want to wear it. I won't be bothered. It just made me think of you, and I know you need a new one, so -"

"Fuck no, Steve! It's perfect. I love it." Tony wriggled it free of the box and slid it on, clicking the band around his wrist. "It's perfect." He turned his gaze on Steve. "Thank you."

"Happy birthday." 

Tony leaned over the table to press their lips together, scattering pieces under his hands.

"You're ruining the puzzle," Steve laughed into the kiss.

Later that night, they lay curled up together in the huge king bed, wrapped in blankets and flanked by pillows, the rain a steady, soothing drum on the roof. 

"It's bothering you isn't it?" Tony said quietly. Steve could feel his lips move against his shoulder.

"No," Steve said, trying to sound relaxed and knowing it wasn't coming out that way. "I'm fine."

"Sweetheart, it's like cuddling with a stone statue."

Steve let out a slow breath, forcibly making his muscles relax.

"Nope. Not good enough." Tony sat up.

"What, Tony, no, we need sleep. I'll be fine. I'm pushing it out of my mind, okay?"

"No, you're not," Tony said. He started walking out the bedroom, and Steve dislodged himself from the blankets to go after him. "I've known you for two years Steve, you're not going to push it out of your mind."

Steve grumbled, following along after. They arrived at the low coffee table where they'd finished their puzzle. Tony pointed his flashlight at it, and Steve gestured. "There's nothing we can do anyway!"

"We could put it back in the box."

Steve sighed. He stuck his finger in the spot where a single piece was missing. They'd looked everywhere. "But we spent all day on it. I wanted to take a picture, and now it's too dark. Tony it's  _ fine.  _ It's silly. I shouldn't -"

"It is silly," Tony said, "but we do lots of silly things. Doesn't make it less important." He cast around, looking for something. "Ah!" He crossed the room, taking all the light with him, and Steve was left in the dark, standing very still so as not to further bruise his already long-suffering shins. 

Tony returned with Steve's art bag and dropped to his knees next to the table. Steve settled into a chair and watched. Tony took out a piece of paper and bent over it, occasionally reaching for a pencil or coloured pen from Steve's supplies, but with the angle of Tony's body and the lack of light, Steve couldn't tell what he was doing.

After about ten minutes, Steve watched him work the pieces of paper under the puzzle. Then he stepped back. "Ta da!"

Steve stood and looked down, Tony's flashlight catching the whole puzzle in its beam. He slapped a hand over his mouth, but he couldn't stop the giggles from leaking out. Tony had carefully traced the shape of the missing piece and then done his best to fill in the image with a pencil and a few coloured pens. He'd slid the paper under the puzzle and lined it up so his drawing showed through the hole.

The missing piece was mostly lace doily, with a little corner of jellybeans, and Tony had done a remarkably good job extrapolating the pattern of the lace, his engineer's mind easily filling in the gaps. The jellybeans lacked depth, but the colours matched up well and it was definitely better than the stark, dark wood of the table underneath, breaking up the pattern.

Tony stood and wiggled into Steve's arms. "Good?"

Steve kissed him. "It's perfect."

"Bed now?"

"Okay." Steve still didn't sleep much, between the rain, the wind, and Tony sprawling himself across the huge bed like he needed to make it worth it, but at least the puzzle was no longer on his mind.


	7. Chapter 7

####  **~~Now~~**

When most of the adults left on an expedition into town to buy supplies, Steve took the opportunity to sit down on the dock with his in-progress wedding gift. He propped the canvas up on one chair and sat on another. It wasn't as comfortable as his easel at home, but he'd worked with worse. He was done the sketch now, and onto painting. The change of location - having the beautiful blue of the water and sky and dark line of trees dividing them in front of him - was actually freeing, despite the awkwardness of being without his usual equipment. He smiled while he worked, nodding to the music that piped in through his headphones.

He worked for a long time in peace, and by the time he stood and took a break, stretching out his shoulders and wrists, he was rather pleased with the result. 

"Uncle Steve!" he heard a small voice cry.

He turned and saw one of Clint's young cousins, Harley, running across the grass towards him. "Are you okay?"

Harley arrived at his side, out of breath. "We  _ need  _ you."

"What's wrong? Is someone hurt?"

"We're uneven."

Steve blinked down at him, trying to parse what kind of emergency that was. "What?"

"We're uneven so we need you. To play." He grabbed Steve's hand and started to drag him away.

"Hold on, one second. Let me just pack up, and then I'll come, okay?" They were playing a game? "You need me cause the teams are uneven?" he asked.

The boy nodded, like one of those bobble-head toys.

Steve chuckled. "Alright. I'll play."

He needed the exercise anyway; he hadn't gone for a run since they got here, and a lazy swim in the lake hardly got his heart rate up. He packed up his supplies carefully so they wouldn't blow into the water then followed the boy across the grass. But as he approached the group of kids gathered by a large tree, a familiar voice made his heart sink. 

"It's called strategy, Alicia, and it's a vital part of battle planning. You have to predict the enemies' moves and decide how you're going to -" Tony cut himself off, his eyes finding Steve's. "You found someone, huh, Harley?"

"Yeah! Uncle Steve is going to play. So you can be one team captain and Steve will be the other."

Tension visibly rippled through Tony's body. "Perfect," he gritted out.

Steve tried to think of a way to excuse himself that wouldn't disappoint the kids, but he had nothing. He'd already said he would play, and they wouldn't understand why he didn't want to be around Tony. He shot Tony an unsteady smile, and to his surprise, Tony smiled back, genuine and kind. Okay, he just had to survive, stay out of Tony's way for a couple of rounds, and then he could claim he was tired and go up to the house.

It took about ten minutes for Steve to forget all of that; competitiveness washed away any discomfort, leaving only pure need to win in its place. 

They split up into two teams, Tony as one team captain, Steve as the other. The game sprawled over the entire side lawn, between the main cabin and the lake. The dividing line was along the side of the cabin and down to the boat launch. Tony's team flag was way back at cabin eight and Steve's team flag was over a low branch of a tree by the small dock. He eyed it with some concern, imagining a small child charging straight past it and plummeting into the lake, but they'd been playing all the day before without incident, and besides, they all knew how to swim.

"Okay." Steve gathered his team close, crouching down to face them head-on. "Here's the thing. Capture the Flag is usually a game of speed and agility. It's a smash and grab. But it's also usually played on an open field. Not so here. We have a unique opportunity to play things another way: stealth. Here's the plan..."

Five minutes later, everyone was in place. 

Steve watched as the strike team made its way up the centreline to the border between the two territories. Two of their team members stayed behind to guard the tree while Steve took the stealth team up along the edge of the lake towards the boat shed. 

A scuffle broke out at the border, some playful smacktalk hopefully drawing the attention of most of Team Tony. Steve pressed a finger to his lips and shuffled around the back of the boat shed, staying low. He could see movement on the side of Team Tony, and he could also see a clear line to cabin eight. That wasn't the plan, though. That was the obvious play. The plan was to sneak around the edge of cabin two, then back behind the tree line and approach cabin eight from behind. Wanda and Pietro were staying in cabin eight, and Steve knew Wanda's window was open.

Harley and Alicia clung close to him as he worked his way quietly around the boat shed. Their first challenge was the rush from the boat shed to the log pile without being seen. 

Most of Team Tony was at the border, though Steve couldn't see Tony himself. When shouting broke out as a few kids darted past the strike team and bolted for the flag, Steve took the chance to dart along the beach and come up behind the log pile, Harley and Alicia close behind.

"No one spotted us," Alicia whispered.

"Good. Stealth team is go," Steve whispered back and Harley slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle his delighted giggling. 

Strike team did their best to engage Team Tony; Steve was proud of them. He saw a few of his men fall at the border, making a showy break for cabin eight, but they knew jailbreak was imminent. There was a terrifying moment when Jeffrey was tagged by the barbeque, and he shot a cheeky smile over to the log pile, but luckily the kid who caught him didn't notice. 

With the next distraction, Steve pressed his team on again, running all-out along the beach to cabin two and then circling around behind it into the trees. Low voices murmured from in front of the cabins, and Steve turned to the kids and pressed a finger to his lips. They wouldn't be spotted here, but they might be heard. He wasn't sure if Tony's voice was among them, but he wouldn't be surprised if it turned out Tony had stayed back to guard the flag. 

A quick dash brought them between cabin two and cabin eight and sure enough, clearly visible at the back, was an open window: Wanda's room. Steve bent down, and Alicia stepped up on his knee. He lifted, and she slipped through the window with astonishing grace. She hadn't been kidding about four years of gymnastics camp. Steve pointed Harley around one way, and he took the other. 

"- about splitting the team," Tony was saying. 

Steve shimmied up to the edge of the cabin and peered around the wall. Tony and two girls were standing between the flag and the border, the regulation ten feet away, backs to Steve and the cabin. Steve took a steadying breath. Now was the time.

He charged forward, scooped up the flag then tossed it behind him, under the door to the cabin. He wrapped his arms around his middle, as if hiding something, and powered off towards the border.

"Hey!"

"He's got the flag!" 

It was pandemonium.

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw Harley making a beeline for the other team's jail. He slapped a long line of hands, releasing everyone captured to book it back towards their side. Keeping his hands hidden in his chest, Steve dodged his way through Team Tony, eyes focused on the boat launch that marked victory. He had to be careful, though, if he crossed too soon, their plan would be found out. 

But Tony's team wasn't giving up that easily, anyway. The kids that had been pushing the border circled back and trapped Steve in, forcing him to cut across sideways and make for the trees. The escapees from jail were headed in the same direction, and there was a cacophony of shrieking and colliding as the two groups wove together. 

Steve took his chance to duck around and blast towards the border again. But with ten feet still to go, something collided with his back and brought him stumbling down to the ground with a yelp. He rolled over, struggling, to find Tony, straddling his waist, batting at his arms, searching for the flag. 

"Where is it?!" Tony turned away. "He doesn't have it!"

Steve smirked then raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know this was contact Capture the Flag."

Tony smiled back sheepishly, and Steve was suddenly viscerally aware that Tony was still sitting on top of him. His warm weight had changed in seven years, but was still familiar, and Steve resisted the urge to settle his hands on Tony's thighs. He was about to clear his throat and remind Tony that he couldn't get up until Tony did, when Alica sped past in a blur of yellow overalls.

"Hey!" Tony yelled. He stumbled to his feet. "It was a fakeout!" 

Team Tony barrelled after Alicia, but it was too late. She careened across the border with a whoop and all of Team Steve collided with her, shouting with victory. 

Tony's team whined and shouted, but it was all good natured, and in the end they gathered together to congratulate Alicia on a well-played maneuver. Steve reached out to offer his hand to Tony, to shake on a good game, but when he looked down, he saw his palm was streaked with blood.

"Oh shit," Tony said suddenly standing uncomfortably close. "You okay?"

"Uh. Yeah?" His palm was shredded and marred with dirt and grass. It was starting to sting. "I'd better wash this though."

Tony clapped his hands together, turning to the kids. "Alright, monsters. Alicia's team takes it! Time for some calmer playtime, alright? Didn't Sophie have some stuff for making friendship bracelets? Do that for a while. No one fall in the lake, alright? Great." He grabbed the corner of Steve's sleeve and started dragging him towards the house.

"Tony -" Steve cut himself off, not sure if he wanted Tony to stop and leave him alone or wrap those fingers around his bicep instead. But Tony just kept dragging him without a word. He brought them both into the main cabin bathroom and started rifling through the medicine cabinet. Steve knew he should say something, say he was fine, that he could do it himself, but having Tony this close was making his brain white out. It felt like home. God, he missed this.

"Does it hurt?"

Steve snapped his eyes up from Tony's hands to his face. "Stings a little."

"Here." Tony turned on the tap and guided Steve's hand under the water, his fingers hot where they wrapped around Steve's wrist. 

"You don't have to do this," Steve said, voice coming out too soft and breathless in the small bathroom.

"It's okay." Tony left his eyes fixed on Steve's hand, but Steve could see a hint of pink flush across his cheeks. "It's my fault you got hurt, so -"

"It's no one's fault... It was just an accident."

Tony's lips pursed, and he busied himself with antibiotics and bandaids. Steve pulled his hand free of the water, satisfied that the wound was clear. Tony reached for him again, and Steve's mouth fell open, eyes fixed on Tony's wrist. He started to say, "Is that -?" then cut himself off.

But Tony caught his cut-off question. "What?"

"Uh. Is a bandaid going to cover it?"

Tony held the bandage over the cut and turned it this way and that. Steve focused hard on keeping his heart from pounding out of his chest. "Yeah, should work." Tony sprayed on some stinging antibiotic ointment then smoothed the bandage over Steve's palm, his fingertips sending electric shocks across Steve's skin. "Good as new," he said softly.

"Thanks." Steve swallowed, unable to tear his eyes away from Tony's wrist. Thankfully, Tony hadn't noticed his staring. "I'll, uh -" Steve gestured vaguely "- be out in a minute."

Tony looked around, almost startled, then nodded sharply. "Right. Okay. Good. I'll go make sure those brats aren't setting fire to anything. Again."

"Thanks, Tony," Steve called after him, but he was already gone. Steve wound his own fingers around his wrist and twisted them back and forth, staring blankly in the mirror. When Tony had reached for him, Steve had noticed it for the first time. The band had been changed, similar but not an exact match, but the face was the same, shiny and bright as if it were kept looking new with careful attention. There was no mistaking the unique red and gold pattern; Tony was still wearing the watch Steve had given him over seven years ago.

What the fuck did that mean?

 

####  **~~Then~~**

When Tony finally managed to move into Steve's room properly, finding a new roommate was much easier than last time. 

Scott was one of the first applicants, and they all liked him from the first moment they met him. He moved in two weeks later, and Steve expected there to be some uncomfortable adjustments. After all, the apartment wasn't really designed for four people. But Scott was quiet and kept mostly to himself except when they were all having raucous fun together, and Tony had been so entrenched in Steve's space already that it didn't really feel like a change. 

Steve still used his runs as time for himself, but even when he was enjoying the crisp morning breeze as he flew around the park, his thoughts drifted back to the tuffs of dark hair he'd left sticking out of the covers that morning. He and Bucky had always planned to live together forever, regardless of whatever other attachments they made in life. It wasn't like it was easy for a single couple to keep an apartment in the city, so they'd just keep upgrading, making space for whoever entered their lives in whatever way they needed to.

And he still wanted that, but he wanted something new, something he hadn't known it was possible for him to want before. He wanted his big extended family with Bucky, and then, as well, something else, something special, more intimate, with Tony. Tony's homelife hadn't been great, but Steve couldn't help wondering if he'd ever thought about getting married. 

Someday.

Steve usually came back from his runs with a smile on his face, and today was no different.

Later that day, when Tony screeched at maximum volume from the living room, both Steve and Bucky came flying out of their rooms. Bucky collided with Tony looking for damage, but Tony just flung his arms around Bucky's neck and all but climbed him like a tree. "I passed! I passed!"

"What?!" 

Steve could see Bucky trying to shove Tony back so he could get a look at him, but he was just bouncing in place, attached to Bucky like an over-enthusiastic barnacle, and Steve's heart calmed as he realized Tony was  _ happy.  _

Bucky finally wrenched him away. "What the fuck, dude?"

"I'm a doctor!" Tony threw his hands in the air. "Again!"

Bucky's face lit up. "Ah, shit, man! That's awesome, congrats!" He scooped Tony back in his arms and shook him violently before setting him down. 

Tony turned his grin on Steve, and it shifted, into the warm, special, knowing smile that was all theirs. He tumbled into Steve's hold, and Steve buried his face in Tony's hair, breathing in, as if he could suck his happiness inside him. It really felt like he could. Something was glowing within him, a mix of pride, and love, and stupid-happy. 

He kissed Tony until he was laughing, and Bucky threw a pillow at them to break them up. They took refuge behind the couch, and while Bucky called Clint to see if he was up for a celebratory dinner that night, Steve tugged Tony back into his lap. 

"I'm so proud of you."

Tony beamed.

"We're going out tonight!" Bucky yelled. "Stevie, get to work!"

"I'm going!" 

Tony pulled Steve in for one more kiss before they pushed to their feet. He left Tony on the couch, grinning as he texted his success to Natasha. Work was slow and boring, and Steve opened his laptop under the desk and worked on a few design contracts he'd managed to rustle up. Two logos and a small website. It wouldn't pay much, but it was work, and it was money coming in that was directly related to his degree, and that was worth a lot.

The last group of shooters wouldn't leave, and Steve ended up late enough that he wasn't going to make it home before they should both be at the restaurant. He shot Tony a text.

_ Running late. Meet you there? _

It was a long time before Tony answered, and Steve was already packed up and making his way down the street when his phone buzzed.

_ Sure.  _

Bucky and Natasha were already there, and Sam showed up shortly after. Clint was half an hour late, held up by deposits even longer than Steve had been held up by his clients.

Clint slid into a seat next to Bucky. "Where's Tony?"

"He's still not here yet," Steve said, worry tightening his throat.

"Why not?"

Steve looked down at his phone, Tony's "Sure" the only message he'd received in the last hour, despite several more he had sent. "I don't know. Maybe he called someone to tell them and got stuck on the phone."

Steve caught Bucky and Nat sharing a look out of the corner of his eye. "Who's he gonna call?" Bucky asked.

"Ghostbusterssss," Clint sang under his breath. Bucky whacked him in the chest.

Time dragged on, and Tony still didn't show. The waitress was getting antsy, so they ordered appetizers, but Steve couldn't eat anything. It wasn't like Tony not to text him back, even if he'd been distracted by something. He might flake on plans, but he always told Steve, always trusted him to know why, even if it was a silly reason, like getting sucked into a video game. 

"I think I should go home and check on him," Steve said, breaking through a conversation he didn't realize was happening until he interrupted it. 

"Did you call him?" Sam asked.

"Four times." Steve fiddled with his phone.

"Go home," Bucky said. "We'll order enough for all of us, and then if you're not coming back, I'll bring it home for you, okay?"

"Okay, thanks." Steve pushed his chair back and all but flew out of the restaurant. It had started raining at some point, the heavy clouds that had threatened all day finally giving in and letting loose. 

Steve grabbed a cab half a block to the subway. He might lose service on the train, and he didn't want to miss Tony calling him back. Fear settled heavy in his stomach. He had no reason to be afraid, Tony had only been unreachable for an hour, hour and a half at the most, but it just felt wrong. He couldn't wait to be home, find Tony up to his elbows in electronics, shocked that so much time had passed. The cab pulled up outside, and Steve tipped him more handsomely than he could afford, not wanting to wait for his change.

Steve shook rain out of his hair as he pushed the door open. The lights were off, and he thought the apartment was empty, his brain already cycling through all the other places Tony might be, until he heard a clink of glass on tile. Steve didn't bother kicking his shoes off, he tore through the apartment until the light spilling from under the bathroom door pointed him towards Tony. He ripped it open, swallowing down a rush of sheer terror at the sight of Tony sprawled on the floor. 

But Tony moved when Steve appeared in the doorway, blinking stupidly up at him, and that's when Steve realized he was surrounded by empty liquor bottles. "What the fuck are you doing?" Steve bit out, adrenaline and fear twisting his words into a hard whip that had Tony flinching back. Steve dropped to his knees next to him, trying to soothe him with a gentle hand on his ankle. 

Tony waved an arm drunkenly. "I'm - uh - celebrating?"

Steve propped him up and stroked his hair back out of his eyes. "We were celebrating too, but you didn't show up. You were supposed to meet us at the restaurant."

"Yeah… I -" Tony looked around at the debris surrounding him. "I'm sorry."

He looked on the verge of tears, and Steve's anger evaporated, making space for sympathy instead. "It's okay, sweetheart." He sat against the wall next to him, and Tony crawled into his lap, burying his face in Steve's chest. "What's wrong?"

"I think I panicked," Tony said softly, the booze slurring his words. But he wasn't as drunk as Steve had first thought. He could sit up, talk, his eyes would focus, even if it looked like hard work. He'd probably just finished off the last of a bunch of these bottles.

"You panicked? About what?"

"I just - I started thinking about, you know,  _ after,  _ like I can't just keep getting degrees forever. I have to… be a grownup or something. And growing up, I always knew exactly what I was going to do because Howard already - and yeah, I just thought I could use some liquid courage to go to the party and it… went downhill. Shit - I'm so sorry Steve." Tony's breath hitched.

Steve soothed soft circles over his back with his hand. "Are we in the bathroom for a reason?"

"In case I threw up."

"Are you going to throw up?"

"No… kinda want to, though," Tony said. Steve gave him another moment. "No."

"Okay, good. Up you get then." Steve urged Tony up to his feet and supported him as they walked back to their room. He lay on the bed, propped up against the headboard, with Tony tucked against his chest. Steve curled his hand under Tony's shirt and petted the soft skin he found. "You don't have to do it all at once, you know. You can take this one step at a time."

"I know… I just…"

"Panicked?"

"Panicked."

"It scares me that you'd stay home alone drinking, Tony. You know that's not healthy, right?"

"I know. He used to - uh, my dad. He used to do that. Drink a lot. I don't want to do that. I don't drink too much, do I?"

Steve kissed the top of his head. "Not usually. That's why you're scaring me a bit."

"I'm so sorry." Tony burrowed further into his chest. 

Steve got out his phone with the hand that wasn't stroking Tony's back and sent off a text to Bucky that he had him and he was fine. "It's alright. We all have bad days."

"This was supposed to be a good day, I don't know what happened."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." 

Tony crawled up and drew Steve into a kiss. It was soft and loving, and undemanding, and Steve sunk into it, licking the already fading bite of alcohol from his tongue. 

"You know I love you, right? So much," Tony murmured against his lips.

"I know, I love you too." 

They ended up falling asleep, still in their clothes, sprawled out on top of the sheets on their bed. 

Steve could see Tony was embarrassed the next morning, even though he didn't mention the night before. He cleaned up the bathroom on his own and made toast and coffee for both of them, leaving enough in the pot for Bucky when he got up, too. 

Steve braced one elbow on the table and leaned his head on his palm, picking at the last of his breakfast. "You want a raincheck on the dinner or do you want to never talk about it again?"

Tony coloured. "I don't want to drag everyone out again."

"It's fine, Tony. They want to celebrate with you, if you want to."

He nodded. "Yeah. That'd be nice."

"Alright." Steve gathered up the dishes and kissed Tony on his way to the kitchen. He texted the gang that Tony was feeling better and would they like to try again that night?

It was a resounding yes, and Steve didn't have to work this time, so he and Tony made their way to the restaurant together. Tony seemed completely recovered from his panic attack.

It wasn't like Steve didn't get it, of course he did. He'd had the same feelings when his course had come to an end, spent more than one night overindulging at a party or a club so he wouldn't have to think about how terrifying tomorrow was. But he'd never really known where he was going, always figuring he'd mill about and figure things out on the way, always knowing that he had Bucky to catch him if he slipped.

But Tony had been been punted off a cliff, like one of those baby birds that learned to fly when their parents shoved them out of a too-high nest. And Steve was worried, and he was excited, and he was terrified about what the future might bring.

But mostly, as he watched his boyfriend laugh and joke with their friends, sharing food, and warmth and love, all he wanted to do was turn it into forever.

Three weeks later, Steve bought a ring.


	8. Chapter 8

**~~Now~~**

Only Clint could find a way to throw a bachelor party in the peaceful, Vermont countryside. Everyone of age loaded up into two specially-ordered cabs and drove an hour into the nearest city which sported a nightclub. The excited, happy energy was strong enough that Steve managed to push Tony from his mind. Three shots of something disturbingly pink also didn't hurt.

The club was much smaller than what they were used to in the city, but it was jumping nonetheless. Bucky and Clint had allowed themselves to be decorated in a vast collection of wedding themed paraphernalia, and the bartender laughed when she saw them then filled their first round for free. 

They claimed a booth at the back and ordered appetizers, splitting into those who wanted to hit the dance floor and those who wanted to drink more first. Steve was among the few who had knocked back a couple shots back at the cabin so he let Wanda and Natasha drag him out to dance. The music was so distorted and corrupted by an overlay of heavy bass and an electronic beat that he had no idea what song it was supposed to be, but it was easy enough to move to, and before long, Steve had settled into the party atmosphere. 

Steve glanced back over at the table and saw Clint and Bucky, heads close together, grinning at each other, and it really hit him. They were going to be married tomorrow. Today they were boyfriends and tomorrow they would be husbands. It was incredible. He could still remember the day they'd met as clearly as if it were yesterday. Clint, asking about Bucky, and Steve thinking he meant Tony. Jenga. That was the night Steve had realized he was in love.

He sighed, extracting himself from the dancers. When Wanda pouted at him, he mimed drinking and hit the bar for a glass of water before he joined the table again. Bucky and Clint had gone, but Sam and Pietro were deep in conversation, so Steve perched himself on the end of the bench seat of the booth and watched the crowd. 

Maybe he was crazy, crazy to still be pining over Tony after seven years. Well, yes, he was definitely crazy, but maybe it was time to stop. Tony, it seemed, had managed to move on as easily as Steve had secretly hoped he wouldn't, and seeing that should have been some kind of closure for Steve, but it wasn't. He should be free of this, it had certainly been long enough. 

He was at a bar. That was where people met people. He could do that. Meet someone. He could push back into the crowd of dancers and see if anyone tried to catch his eye. But at best that would be a one night stand, and at worst he'd actually like the person and then never get to see them again because he didn't live around here. He'd tried one night stands; he didn't like them.

The crowd shifted, and Tony appeared again, arms full of Natasha. He was laughing. Steve tipped his head back until it smacked against the wooden back of the booth, and he groaned.

"You okay, man?" Sam asked.

Steve waved a hand. "Always." 

But Tony and Natasha chose that moment to collapse back in the booth with Scott and Hope hot on their heels, and Steve knew he was tensing. What if he had to watch  _ Tony  _ pick up a one night stand? That would be - that would maybe be too much.

"So, did you see the new TV at the gym?" Sam asked.

Steve pulled his eyes away from Tony. "Oh yeah, I love that after all our complaints their solution was to get  _ another  _ crappy secondhand-er with a different dent and put that up like we wouldn't notice."

Sam snorted. "I don't know why we keep going there, man, there are definitely better gyms in the area."

"Nostalgia?"

"Or because it's across the street from a Starbucks?"

"Oh yeah, that's it." Steve grinned.

Tony's voice wafted over from across the table. "No, no, it was a special thing, a tech expo."

"And you were invited?" Scott asked with a laugh.

Tony grinned, and all of Steve's attention snapped to him, though he hadn't yet noticed he was being watched. "I know right? That's the real twist to this story. No, but -"

"Tony breaks in to add his own invention to the display out of spite," Natasha said, and they all laughed.

"Hey!" Tony pointed at her. "You asked to hear my one B&E story, and this is it. You going to listen or what?"

"We're listening!"

"Okay." Tony settled in his seat. Steve couldn't look away, even though he knew where this story was going. He and Bucky were the only ones who knew where this story was going. "So it was this tech expo thing. And I'd been grumpy about it all week because it was by invite only and I hadn't been invited. And we'd maybe all been drinking a little bit."

"I'm shocked," Scott said, smacking a hand over his chest.

"Shut up." Hope shoved at him. "I wanna hear the story."

"Yes, shut up Scott." Tony waved a slightly sloppy hand in his face. "So Bucky was like, 'let's go anyway' and I was like 'hey, Steve, talk some sense into this guy' but instead Steve was like 'yeah, let's'."

A few of them shot looks Steve's way, but he just busied himself with the label on an empty beer bottle sitting on the table and pretending he wasn't listening. They turned back to Tony.

"So we busted in. It was being held in one of the conference spaces on campus and I knew the best way not to get noticed. So we went in and all the displays were all set up and ready to go and it -" Tony stopped, swallowing heavily. He dropped his eyes to his glass and swirled it around. "It was actually really cool. We'd sobered up a bit by then and Steve let me take him around from display to display, explaining them all. It was like slightly-inebriated, reverse engineering in the dark." He chuckled.

"You didn't get caught?"

"Nope." Tony took a sip from his drink and his eyes flicked over to Steve. Steve didn't have time to look away, couldn't look away. His heart was thundering in his chest and he felt like he couldn't breathe. "Afterwards, we went home and I sat Steve down and made him watch while I designed what would eventually become - years later - the first iteration of the arc reactor that drives my business' green energy initiative." Tony's voice dropped low. "He said, 'you're going to save the world someday.'"

They were caught in some strange bubble, everything outside of it dim and washed out. But Tony was bright and vivid in front of him. 

"I can't believe you remember that," Steve breathed, stunned.

Tony blinked at him. "I remember all of it," he said quietly. 

The whole table fell silent, and Steve realized like a bucket of ice water that everyone was staring at them. He cleared his throat and dropped his eyes back to his cup. Natasha, bless her, started up the conversation again.

Eventually, Steve rejoined the group on the dance floor and found himself able to let go of Tony for a while, even happily dancing with him as part of the group. His genuine happiness for Bucky and Clint carried him through the rest of the night until they all met up again at their table and settled the tab.

"We're going home!" Clint announced, hanging around Bucky's neck and tilting wildly. "Bucky here  -" he tapped Bucky's chest "- called a cab. That's why I'm marrying him, you know. Always thinking ahead." He spun around Bucky until they were chest to chest and kissed him. "We should go home."

"We are going home," Bucky said, then he leaned forward and whispered something in Clint's ear that made him turn bright red.

"Come on, guys!" Steve insisted, shoving the two of them towards the door. "Insatiable."

They all tumbled to the door, a mess of laughter and stumbling steps and trying to catch each other. The cab seemed fuller than it had on the way down, but a wave of exhaustion had washed over Steve. He dozed in the car then stumbled upstairs and into bed.

Steve woke up again, less than an hour later, his mouth dry and cottony. He'd left his water bottle downstairs, and there was no way he was falling asleep again when every swallow felt like sandpaper, so he threw his legs over the side of the bed and padded down the hall. He nearly tripped over a scrunched up form at the head of the stairs, catching himself on the bathroom door frame at the last minute.

"Shit! Sorry." He looked closer, his eyes adjusting to the dark. "Tony?"

"Sorry." Tony shuffled back down the hall a bit, bringing his feet up off the top step. "That was a stupid place to sit. I thought everyone was asleep."

Steve looked back down the hallway to the room Tony had been sharing with Natasha. The door was closed. "What are you doing out here?"

Tony gestured behind him. "Nat brought a friend back from the club. They're 'celebrating life' in there, and I know I have a reputation for being a playboy but voyeurism isn't my thing."

"What? But that's your room too. Why would she do that when she knows you're sharing?"

Tony waved his hand. "No, no. I told her to. I could tell she wanted to, but she wasn't going to, so I told her I needed to stay up and work anyway so the room was hers tonight. Figured I could crash on the couch or something, but someone was already passed out down there when we got back. It's fine Steve, don't get all fretty."

Steve frowned. "I'm not getting fretty." 

"Yes, you are."

"What does that even mean?"

Tony tipped his chin up to look at Steve, and he caught the light. Something about the soft glow from the downstairs lamps and the dark cuts of shadow made Tony look young again. And he was looking up at Steve with an open gaze, free of the weight of what they'd been through since, like he was transported back as well. "You like to fret about people and take care of them." He tipped his head and the light shifted, breaking the spell. "Or… you used to."

Steve leaned back against the wall with a sigh. "No, I still do that." He smiled. "But you can't sleep in the hallway, Tony."

Tony shrugged. "I'll just stay up then. I have work to do."

Steve's eyes flicked down to Tony's phone. He had a game opened where the point appeared to be to roll a very fat cat down a series of ramps without rolling right off and reach the mouse toy at the bottom. "Right."

Tony smiled cheekily, and Steve's stomach flip-flopped. 

"Mine's a double," Steve was saying before he could stop himself.

"What?"

"My room. It has two twin beds."  _ Sleep with me,  _ he almost said, then bit his tongue to stop that from leaking out. "Take the other one. At the very least, if you stay out here, you're going to trip some poor drunk person staggering downstairs for a drink of water."

Tony's smile slid off his face. "Oh, no. I can't ask you to do that."

"You didn't, I offered. You won't sleep out here, Tony, we're all getting too old for that."

Tony pushed up to his feet, eyes not drifting from where they were locked on Steve's. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. It's just - yeah, it's okay. Please. I'm getting a drink -" he gestured towards the stairs, carefully running through the contents of his room in his head to make sure there wasn't anything incriminating "- go on ahead. I'll be up in a minute."

Tony hovered uncertainly, but his lip was twitching the way it always did when he was about to give in. "Okay. Thanks. You can kick me out again - I won't be mad. If it's too weird."

Steve's hand longed to reach out and brush through Tony's hair. He was soft and vulnerable in a way that Steve hadn't seen him yet this week, and all Steve wanted was to pull him close, breathe him in, rub soothing hands down his back. "I won't kick you out," Steve said softly, and Tony flinched as if that had been some dig against him. "Tony -"

But he cut Steve off with another "thank you" and turned down the hall. He opened the door to Steve's room and disappeared inside without a look back. Steve got his water bottle and filled it, staring blankly as the water slowly overfilled and spilled over the top. A hundred beyond-farfetched fantasies roiled and spun in his brain like an industrial dryer full of bizarre ideas.

The idea that he'd push open the door and Tony would stand up from his bed and cross the room and take Steve's face in his hands and just kiss him silly. Or, in the night, Tony would sleepwalk across the few feet of floor that would separate them and crawl into Steve's bed with him, drawn to the familiar feeling of being in his arms. Or maybe he'd open the door and Tony would be in his bed, instead… wearing significantly less than he had been.

Steve shook his head and turned off the tap with more force than was necessary. He shuffled around the mysterious snoozing form on the couch and back up the stairs. When he opened the door to his bedroom, his fantasies shattered into sharp pieces. Tony was curled in the other bed, face to the wall, blankets pulled up over his head. He was wearing a t-shirt, and Steve could see his pants and jacket draped over the chair in the corner. 

Steve slid back into bed as quietly as he could. He rolled onto his side and stared blatantly across the room to the other bed. The curtains here were barely more than strips of gauze, and Steve had specifically chosen this bed because it was clear that any light from the outside would spill over the other. That meant that Tony was bathed in a pool of silver moonlight, his dark hair lost to shadow, but the skin of the back of his neck glowed. He snuffled, shifted, and the blanket pulled up to reveal an inch of his back, the very top of the waist band of his boxers, and the rucked up hem of his t-shirt. 

It was like the visions his brain tortured him with when he lay alone in bed at night had been brought to life and laid out in front of him. Tony, sleep-soft and relaxed, stretched out in bed, sleeping deeply, trusting Steve with that vulnerability. But the Tony in his mind was mere inches away, if that, usually locked in Steve's firm hold, his back pressed tightly against Steve's chest. This Tony was too far away to touch, three feet of hardwood floor and seven years of pain standing between them. 

Steve had saved Tony's night of sleep at the cost of completely obliterating his own. He stayed up all night, unable to sleep when instead he could listen to the gentle rise and fall of Tony's breath.

 

####  **~~Then~~**

The ring sat in its box at the back of Steve's art supplies drawer. It felt like it was radiating some strange power that drew Steve's attention to it near constantly. It got so bad that even Bucky suggested Steve "get back to his traditional art because he seemed to miss it." As much as he wanted to tell Bucky why he kept staring at his desk like he was waiting for it to explode, he didn't. He wanted this to stay just his and Tony's for as long as possible. Besides, he hadn't worked up the courage to ask yet. He was waiting for the right moment, and it would come, eventually. There was no rush.

Tony arrived home from his evening class and sat on Steve's legs where they were spread out on the couch. "My advisor is having a dinner tomorrow night, wanna come?"

"Really?" Steve set his book down. "I didn't think you wanted to bring me to any of that stuff."

"Why wouldn't I want to bring you?"

"Well, you never do."

Tony tipped his chin up in contemplation. "Huh. I'm sorry. I didn't really realize I'd never invited you. I mean, it's pretty boring. Just a lot of red wine and self-congratulation combined with minor panic from the ones that are still writing or experimenting. Profs like to gather their grad students around like little chicks so they can convince themselves they're accomplishing something."

Steve wiggled his toes under Tony's butt. "You know you're going to end up a prof someday, better watch what you say."

Tony laughed. "Yeah… you're probably right. It'd be cool to invent stuff, but as a tenured prof I could totally teach and do research and have grad students of my own. I'd like that."

"I know you would."

"So, do you want to come?"

"Of course I do." 

"Awesome." Tony flopped over Steve's chest and kissed him once, hard, then rolled off the couch. "It's tomorrow at 6. I'll meet you here after your shift and we'll go over together. I'm going to take a shower."

"Have fun."

Tony winked. "Join me and it'll be even more fun."

Steve only pondered it for a few moments before he leapt off the couch and hurried after Tony.

The party was less stressful than Steve had expected. Tony seemed to know everyone and everyone seemed to like Tony. He was a bit distant, keeping his hands to himself, but it wasn't like PDA would be as acceptable at an academic dinner as it would be having drinks with their friends. But Steve was used to Tony being all over him, and he couldn't help but feel a bit untethered by the lack of a hand in his.

Tony's professor was nice enough, but they didn't get much time to talk to her. Shortly after however, Tony gave a yip of pleased surprised and took off across the room towards a pretty, dark-haired woman who appeared to be in an argument with her friend. 

"Jane!" Tony plowed into her. She broke off whatever speech she'd been giving to the other girl and caught Tony in her arms.

"Tony! I'm glad you came. How's your AI coming along?"

"It's great. I finally figured out how I'm going to design the base of the learning algorithm!"

"That's awesome!"

Tony turned back to Steve. "Jane this is my roommate, Steve. Steve this is Jane. She's in the astrophysics department. I'm definitely going to do my next degree in astrophysics. Your projects are so cool."

Jane laughed prettily. "Oh my god, Tony, you can't just keep accumulating degrees. At some point you have to actually do something with one of them."

"Course I can. And you're my inside edge into the department. Did you get the grant to go on your Einstein-Rosen bridge hunt yet?"

"Oh, yes, I was just talking to Professor Green the other day, and -" she began, but Steve turned away, leaving Tony and Jane to their specialized talk. He found the drinks table and poured a new glass of red wine. He didn't love red, but there wasn't a lot of choice.

"Hi."

He turned, and Jane's companion was standing at his elbow, her own glass held out towards the bottle. He topped her up too. "Steve," he said.

"Darcy. I'm a friend of Jane's."

"I gathered that."

"And you're a friend of Tony's?"

Steve hesitated. He realized, for the first time, that Tony had introduced him as his roommate all night. "I'm his roommate. And very good friend." He put careful emphasis on very, and Darcy seemed to notice. She cocked an eyebrow.

"So, what do you do, Steve?"

They chatted about little inconsequential things for a while, all small talk, but there was something in Darcy's infectious, enthusiastic energy that made it seem like anything but. After only twenty minutes, Steve felt like he'd known her forever. 

"God, we'll have to pry them apart with a crowbar," Darcy said, nodding across the room.

Steve looked up to where Tony and Jane were still talking, heads bowed close together, two notebooks out between them. 

"Nerd convention." Darcy sipped her third glass of wine. "You know, I told Jane she should just ask for his number, but she didn't think Tony would go for her because she's a few years older. What do you think?"

"What?"

"I just think we should set them up, you know? Because they get along so well. Seriously, when you get those two together, they can talk for eight hours straight. I've had to pull them apart."

Steve fixed his eyes on the pair again, something hot winding its way through his stomach. He hadn't really considered it before. When they'd started talking, it hadn't bothered him, but suddenly… It struck him that while he was used to being frequently jealous when out with Tony - after all, Tony was gorgeous, friendly, and flirty, everyone wanted a piece of him - it was always other men he was jealous of. As far as he knew, Tony had only dated one person seriously before Steve: the boyfriend that had gotten him disowned. 

He'd kind of… discounted women, assuming Tony wasn't interested, but the looks Tony was giving Jane now… they didn't really seem all that innocent. Steve was used to Tony flirting and deeply aware of his own tendency towards painful jealousy. He'd had to teach himself to hold it back, then let go either on his run the next morning or the minute he got Tony in bed with him again. It wasn't fair to try and keep Tony away from anyone who got Steve's hackles up. He trusted him, of course he trusted him, to the end of the earth and back, but he didn't like it when people tried to touch Tony or assumed they had a shot with him. They didn't. Tony was his. 

He swallowed heavily. "No… I don't think Tony would go for that," he said carefully. It was becoming increasingly clear that no one here knew that Tony had a boyfriend of two years who he lived with. Increasingly clear and increasingly painful.

"Oh well, too bad." Darcy shrugged. "They'd be a cute couple. Though on second reflection, maybe not. They'd get stuck talking and forget to eat or bathe. It'd end up some horrible accidental suicide pact where they just starve, surrounded by laptops and notebooks."

Steve stared at her. "That's horrible."

She grinned.

Darcy drifted off, but Steve couldn't bring himself to go over and hover awkwardly as a third wheel while Tony and Jane flirted with one another, so he picked up a copy of Tony's thesis that someone had left out and started to flip through it as if he could understand a word of it. But his eyes couldn't help drifting up to fix on Tony and Jane every few minutes. She made Tony laugh, smile. He leaned into her space. Steve raged with the desire to tear across the room and rip Tony away, growling at her. He thought back to the ring in his art drawer. Maybe once he'd managed to put that on Tony's finger, he'd be able to handle this a bit better.

As soon as they could reasonably leave, Steve sidled up to Tony and whispered, "It's getting late," in his ear. Tony pouted a bit, but Steve managed to drag him away from Jane with Darcy's help.

They walked back to the subway.

"So. Jane seems nice," Steve said through gritted teeth.

Tony shot him a look. "You don't like her?"

"What? I just said she seemed nice."

"Yeah, but in a really weird way that was clearly looking for an opening for you to say what you don't like about her."

Steve gaped at him. "That wasn't it at all. _ Jesus. _ I just  _ finally  _ get to meet some of your friends besides Nat - not that I really got to meet Jane, since you two had so many important things to talk about - and I say she's nice, and you bite my head off."

Tony wrapped his arms around his chest. "What do you mean 'finally'?"

"Tony. We've been together for two years and that's the first time I've met your supervisor. And your degree is over. You don't think that's a little odd?"

"No… It's not odd. Most of them don't have partners. It'd be weird to be one of the few people who showed up with one. It's not usually a plus ones kind of event. I got a pass because it was in my honour. Sort of."

Steve shoved his hands in his pockets and picked up the pace, getting petty pleasure out of Tony having to push to keep up. "Well, you don't really have to worry about that anyway since I'm your 'roommate,' do you?"

"What?"

"You told everyone that I'm your roommate. You didn't say 'partner' or 'boyfriend'."

Tony was silent for a moment. "Yeah… I'm sorry. I should have said something to you. Look, some of them know about you, actually. I have brought you up before. They know I have a boyfriend that I live with. But some of them don't… on purpose. Look, I wish I could say that I was strong enough to be the one out grad student in this department, but I'm just not." Tony reached out and tucked his hand in Steve's pocket, twining their fingers together. Steve felt some of his anger start to thaw. "I want to tell everyone. I want to shout it from the rooftops. But the last time I did that, I lost my family, my home, my legacy. Everything. I'm grateful, because it led me to you, but I'm a bit gunshy. I know we should have talked about it earlier, but I'm just not ready, not there. Sorry."

Steve squeezed Tony's hand gently. "No…" He let out a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped. You're right. It's okay with me if you're not out at school, it really is. I wish we'd talked about it, but I understand why you wouldn't want to be. And I know I don't have anything to worry about, I just - Well, it was probably something Darcy said about you and Jane."

Tony's eyes narrowed. "What did she say?"

"She just said that you two would make a great couple. And I guess I looked over and you kinda already looked like a great couple? And I got pretty jealous."

Tony tucked up closer against his side. "You get jealous pretty easily, my dear."

"I do," Steve admitted.

"Have I ever told you how hot that is?"

"Yeah. Once or twice." Steve snorted. Tony never had any complaints about the nights when Steve had to drag him home and reclaim him. 

Tony's voice softened. "I wasn't trying to rile you up, though. You know I'm not interested in Jane, right? Just you. She's a really, really good friend. Or at least a really, really interesting scientist." He grinned. "But you're it for me, baby. I promise."

Steve smiled. "Thank you. I try not to, but seeing you with other people sometimes makes me want to -"

Tony laughed then snapped his mouth shut. "I'm sorry, its not funny. I mean it's a little funny. Really, just the idea that there could be anyone else for me."

"You never get jealous," Steve grumbled.

Tony smiled again. "Would you like me to?"

"Couldn't hurt," Steve said loftily.

"Well then. We'll go to a dirty club, and you can get all grindy with some hottie on the dance floor, and I promise to get very, very jealous, and then we can go home and celebrate."

Steve pulled his hand free to grab Tony and tug him into a headlock. He buried his face in Tony's hair. "Tony… that's not how that works."

"Hmm."

"Though…"

Tony tipped his chin up and caught Steve's heated gaze. "Yes?"

"I wouldn't mind the celebrating part."

Tony laughed again, light and carefree, and Steve drew him up into a kiss with no end in sight.

**

Steve woke to the buzzing of Tony's phone on the bedside table. "Wha -?" He struggled with the covers, catching Tony in the ribs with his elbow.

"Whoa, calm down there, big guy. I'll get it." Tony slept longer and deeper but also handled being woken up better than Steve did. He crawled over Steve and snatched his phone off the table. "Hmm." Steve burrowed back in the sheets, assuming it was a wrong number, but he heard Tony say, "Hello?" and then the click of their bedroom door opening and closing.

Steve dozed but he couldn't fall asleep again with the murmur of Tony's voice in the living room. When it broke into a sharp shout, Steve stumbled out of bed and threw open the door. 

Tony stood by the armchair, one hand going white-knuckled on the back. His eyes were wide, and he was staring at nothing, his hold on the phone loosening. Steve rushed forward, but didn't touch him. He'd never seen Tony like this. 

"Tony?"

Tony's eyes cut to him then he swallowed and shook himself. "Right, okay," he said into the phone. "I will. Thanks, Obie. You too." He hung up.

Steve eased the phone out of Tony's shaking fingers. "Tony, what's wrong?"

Tony tipped forward into Steve's arms and buried his face in his shirt. "My parents were in a car crash."


	9. Chapter 9

####  **~~Now~~**

Steve wiped his hand on a massive wad of paper towels and sat back, tilting his head first one way then the other. He was done. He let out a long, slow breath then shuffled back even further. He really was done.

There was a soft knock on the door. 

"Come in. Unless you're Bucky or Clint! Then don't come in."

The door opened, and Tony stuck his face in. "Not Bucky or Clint."

"Oh. Tony." Steve had the distinct urge to grab the covers and pull them up over him even though he was sitting on his bed, not tucked in it, and he was fully dressed. "Come in."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to bother you. I just can't find my - Wow." Tony stepped inside and cut himself off as his eyes fell on the finished painting. 

Steve shuffled uncomfortably. He gestured towards it. "My wedding gift."

"That's incredible." Tony skirted around the room, bracing his hands on the end of Steve's bed so he could lean in and admire it more closely. "I always loved your paintings so much. Remember that little frog series you did for me? The tiny canvases all in a row with the little - uh - hats…" Tony trailed off as his eyes flicked back over to where Steve was staring at him, wide-eyed. 

"I do remember those. They're, um, I still have them." Steve had tried to throw them out, tried hundreds of times, but he couldn't. They were shoved at the back of his closet, in his new apartment, where Bucky would find them and accuse him of pining.

"Oh. Right." Tony leaned back, cheeks pinking. "Well. I think that's amazing. Really, it's gorgeous. They'll love it."

"Thank you. I - thank you." Steve twirled his brush between his fingers.

Tony shook himself, as if out of a dream. "Sorry. Sorry. I just couldn't find my wallet, and I thought maybe it fell out of my pocket last night."

"Oh, sure, yeah. Um." Steve got up to help Tony look, but the room was small enough that they just bumped awkwardly into each other until Steve stood back and let Tony root around under the other bed.

He came up holding a slim, black, leather wallet. "Got it. Thanks. Sorry to bother you."

"No bother."

Tony hovered by the door. "So, today's the day, huh?"

"Yup." Steve started packing away his supplies. He'd have to get dressed soon.

"Nervous?"

Steve shot him a smile. "Actually, yeah," he admitted.

"Don't be. You'll do great." Tony fiddled with the edge of his wallet, not leaving, and Steve waited, sensing there was more. He couldn't help wondering if the wallet had been an excuse to come see him, but that was crazy. "Hey, Steve? Thank you," Tony finally managed to get out.

"I - for what?"

"For being so good about this. You had every right to treat me like shit or ask me to leave and I'm really grateful you didn't. This is the best week I've had in a long time and I -" Tony blinked hard and his face slipped through several expressions before settling on a controlled smile. "I kind of needed this. So, thank you. I know you're a good person, I mean, you're the best person I've ever met, no doubt about that, so I'm not surprised, but it's nice that - I mean, yeah. Thank you. I don't deserve your kindness, but I'm grateful for it anyway."

Steve wobbled uncertainly on his feet. The world had gone kind of hazy around the edges and he was starting to wonder if the fumes from his paint were finally making him hallucinate. Tony thought he was the best person he'd ever met? "I - wow. Um."

"You don't have to say anything," Tony said hurriedly. "I just wanted you to know." He turned to go.

"Wait!" Steve took two stumbly steps forward. Tony froze, eyes going wide. "I've never thought you didn't deserve my kindness, Tony." He stuttered a little around his words, something along the lines of  _ I still love you  _ threatening to slip out. "I meant what I said before. I don't hate you. I don't blame you for what happened between us. We were young and - and things were out of our control. I think you deserve the world, Tony."  _ Too much!  _ Steve screamed at himself, trying not to show his panic on his face. "Um. I have to go help set up."

"Right." Tony didn't move.

Steve grabbed his phone and flew out into the hall, swallowing back any other words before he started trying to backtrack. He'd done enough damage already. 

Across the drive and set back some from the lake was a large event space where they'd be hosting the reception. Since the weather was nice, they'd planned to set up the ceremony on that building's front lawn, with Bucky and Clint framed by the trees and the guests looking out on the serene lake.

Steve power-walked across the grass to where Nat and Pietro were helping the caterers set up chairs. Nat stopped him. "You okay? You look all flushed."

"Fine. Sorry. I'm fine. Just - it's here, right? Big day."

Nat nodded, peering at him closely before smiling. "Nervous?"

"Yup."

"Okay, you can burn it off. Help Pietro move those tables."

Steve let his mind go blank and focused on the physical, lifting and moving, and organizing. The rush of adrenaline from his conversation with Tony faded, and he was left with the low-level buzz of anticipation for the ceremony. He'd been so worried about finishing his present and surviving the obstacle course that was a week with his ex that he'd forgotten to freak out about being the best man, but now, here it was upon him. 

His phone alarm went off so he waved goodbye to the others. Steve crossed the lawn again and trotted up the stairs, back to own room. Thankfully, Tony was gone. Steve took a quick shower, grabbed his suit, texted Natasha that the painting was in his room and ready to go anytime, and made his way back down to Bucky and Clint's room, where Bucky was supposed to be getting ready. Bucky was standing at the foot of the bed, his cufflink case in one hand and his tie in the other. 

"Buck?"

He spun, and Steve could see the pinches at the corners of his eyes and the tight line to his jaw. "You okay?"

"Yeah…" Bucky's fingers twitched around the tie.

Steve slipped it out of his hands and draped it over his own neck, crossing it over and wrapping it around. "Nervous?"

Bucky let out a tight sigh. "Yeah, I guess. Didn't think I would be."

"About the performance in front of fifty people or about getting married?"

The way Bucky's eyes twitched up towards Steve's then down again said everything.

Steve paused in tying the tie. "Wow. Really?"

Bucky sat down hard on the end of the bed, popping the cufflink case open and shut. "Not like - you know,  _ Clint.  _ Like, I'm obviously sure about him. Wouldn't give that lunatic up for anything. But, it's not like any of us have any good role models for marriage or being a good husband… What if I fuck it up?"

"Ah, Buck… you won't fuck it up." Steve finished the tie dropped it over Bucky's head then sat down next to him. "This isn't changing anything. This is just a party. You guys have been committed like this for a long time now. I know, I've been there for the whole thing. You guys put the work in, you both do. I've seen when things weren't great. I've seen you fight, I've seen you hurt each other, but I've also seen you rebuilding it every time, stronger than before. Love is effort, and you two put in the effort. You're gonna be okay." Steve clapped him on the back. "Besides, won't it be nice to hear Clint introduce you as 'my husband'?"

Bucky's smile bloomed soft and slow. "Yeah… that'll be awesome." He tightened the tie and tucked it under his collar, letting Steve stand up and straighten it out. "I just don't want him to ever regret it, you know?"

"He won't. Even if it ended someday, he wouldn't regret having this while you did. I promise." Steve didn't regret Tony. He couldn't. Even though some days he wished he could, wished he could fantasize about a life where they'd never met, where Tony had never answered that ad, or Bucky had never called him back, he couldn't do it. Being with Tony, however brief it was, had shaped who he was, shaped his heart and soul, and he didn't want to go back, even for all the pain it brought him now. "He won't."

"Thanks, man." Bucky pulled him into a quick hug then let out a sharp breath. "I've got this," he muttered more to himself than anyone else. 

"Hey, Buck?"

"Mmm?" Bucky was fiddling his cufflinks into place.

"I just - I'm sorry if I haven't been that fun this week. I've been trying really hard not to let myself be entirely wrapped up in my own shit. I'm here for you guys - I  _ want  _ to be here for you guys. And I'm so, so unbelievably happy for you. If I ever seemed like I wasn't, I'm really sorry." Steve unzipped his own garment bag and started pulling on his suit.

"Ah, come on, Stevie, I know that. You got tossed a curveball, and I think you've handled it really well. Maybe even… some closure or something?"

Steve tugged at the end of his own tie. "Honestly? Not really. I really am still in love with him. Everything I fell for, it's still there. He's still kind and funny and sweet and incredibly dorky. If I'd just seen him on the first day here, maybe I would have been able to dislike him a little - though I don't know if that would help me let this go, or only make it worse - but he has this mask he puts up, and when he lets it down… I still love him. I still want him." Steve sighed. "And he doesn't want me. It's that simple. So, no, no closure. But maybe this was a chapter of my life that was always meant to end in a cliffhanger."

"Maybe you should talk to him. More, I mean, about what happened in LA."

Steve shook his head. "I don't think so. I went back and forth on that, but I don't think so. Look, he's nice enough to me, he obviously still likes me as a friend, but he wishes we'd never gone further than that. He was young, and we were both inexperienced with dating, and it was all too fast. I wish he'd done it differently, of course I do, but as much as I miss him, as much as I wish we were still together, I can't blame him for making the choice he did. Better that then have him stay when he wasn't happy, right?"

Bucky looked at him sadly for a moment then reached out and ruffled his hair. "You're too good for him anyhow, Stevie. Fucking saint. Is there anyone you can't forgive?"

Steve batted him away and stood. "That's the point, Buck. He doesn't need forgiveness. He didn't do anything wrong."

Bucky's voice dropped low. "I saw you afterwards, man. He did a number on you."

"Not on purpose. Maybe that's the closure I got this week. Some days, I wondered, if I was crazy to love him, if he hurt me because he was cruel or vindictive. Some days, I wondered if I'd just been some fling to pass the time while he played at being broke. But seeing him this week, I know that wasn't true. For whatever reason, he fell out of love with me, and breaking up with me was the right thing to do. I don't want to be with someone who doesn't love me. So now all I can wish, instead of a hundred different painful things, is that he'd never stopped loving me."

Bucky's concerned frown flickered into a soft, adoring smile. "You know, pal? If Clint and I can manage to be half as romantic as you are, between the two of us, I think we'll be alright."

Steve patted Bucky's chest, over the pocket where his vows waited. "Don't worry, I think you've already got me beat."

Bucky checked his watch. "Alright. Go get married?"

Steve clapped him on the shoulder then pulled him into a hug. When they parted, he drove Bucky towards the door. "Go get married!"

 

####  **~~Then~~**

Tony didn't say a word on the plane ride to LA. Steve had never been close to a private jet, let alone in one, but Tony marched right on without hesitation. He kept his sunglasses on and sat in a window seat, staring out at the tarmac. There were three flight attendants - more than there were passengers - and they hovered politely, waiting to be needed, but Steve felt too sick to eat and Tony just grunted when they asked him if he wanted anything. 

Steve was starting to regret telling Bucky and Clint to stay home. What if he wasn't enough for Tony in this? What if he couldn't be there for him? Memories of his mother's funeral kept surging up in his mind, twisting and flicking the backs of his eyes until they were hot and prickling.

Tony's hand rested limply on the arm rest between them, and Steve reached out and twined their fingers together. Tony didn't exactly hold his back, but he didn't pull away either, so Steve took it as a win. Despite the reclining seats and ample foot room, the flat screen TV, and the eager-to-help flight attendants, it was the most uncomfortable flight Steve had ever been on.

Things didn't get better. A car picked them up at the airport and took them to a hotel that Tony's surrogate uncle, Obadiah Stane had booked for them. Tony hadn't wanted to waste any time - they were only set to stay for two nights. Steve heard Tony's phone exploding with notifications when they first landed, but after about twenty minutes of rampant buzzing, Tony turned it off. 

They spent the evening at the hotel together. Steve felt restless, like there was something they were supposed to be doing, but Tony showed no signs of unease and mentioned no gatherings or events they should go to. It was strange to be here and see how disconnected from this life Tony was. He had no friends in town that he wanted to visit - Rhodey hadn't been able to get leave to come for more than the funeral itself - and he showed no interest in talking to his parents' friends. 

The funeral was excruciating. They'd asked Tony to speak, but he'd declined, so the eulogy was given by Mr. Stane. This time, Tony reached for Steve's hand and clutched it nearly hard enough to hurt. Rhodey sat close on Tony's other side, and when everyone gathered to eat opulent finger food and reminisce, Steve stepped away to give Tony and Rhodey some time alone together. 

Steve noticed Rhodey leaving first, and then Tony sidled up next to him. 

"Let's go." Tony grabbed Steve's wrist and led him briskly to the door, dodging a few people who put on their best sympathy faces and opened their mouths to speak to him. 

"Are you sure you can just leave, Tony? Aren't there people who want to talk to you?"

"Let 'em want," Tony said petulantly. "All I want is a shower and you."

As painful as all of this was, Steve couldn't help but smile at that. 

They lay in bed that night, twined around each other, legs tangled. Steve held Tony close to his chest, needing to be able to touch him, breath him in. 

"They're reading the wills at the lawyer's office tomorrow. They want me there."

Steve ruffled his fingers through Tony's hair. "I thought your dad cut you out completely."

"He did." Tony shuffled around, getting settled. Steve could hear the heaviness to his voice that meant he was on the verge of sleep. "He did, but they want me there anyway. I'm family, I guess. It's to be expected. Or, you know what? Maybe he left me a fuck you. That wouldn't surprise me. Like a family ring or some shit. A hundred bucks and a pamphlet on how marriage is between a man and a woman." Tony snorted.

Steve stroked his fingers along Tony's spine. As easily as he brushed it off, Steve could sense the pain there. Tony didn't like his father, didn't miss him, but he still hurt with the loss of him, grieved for a father he could have had but missed his chance to. "Okay. You go tomorrow. If he left you a hundred fuck you dollars, we'll go out for a fancy date on it and burn the pamphlet in the candle on the table."

Tony hummed. "Sounds good."

Steve petted him softly until he drifted off to sleep, and then he followed, soon after. 

The next morning, Tony was up, dressed in his nice suit, and out the door early. Steve thought about going for a run, thought about exploring the area, but ended up lying on the bed with the TV on, stressing about Tony. He was so sad; Steve wanted to see him smile again. But he knew what this was like, the heaviness of loss. Tony would drag it around for a while, as much as he swore up and down that he didn't care, and since Steve couldn't carry it for him, he'd just have to be willing to carry Tony whenever it became too much. 

Hours passed, and Steve started to get worried. He couldn't imagine that going over the will would take so long. Perhaps the family and close friends had decided to go out for lunch after. He checked his phone obsessively but there was nothing from Tony. 

Steve startled up when the door finally opened. "Tony?" Tony shuffled in, eyes downcast. His entire body radiated tension. Steve reached out from where he sat on the end of the bed and tugged Tony closer. "That took a long time."

"I had to go for a walk," Tony mumbled.

Steve rubbed his palm over Tony's forearm then pulled back when Tony seemed to flinch away. "Hey, sweetheart, what do you need? Just tell me what you want." 

"I want to break up," Tony said.

Steve stared at him. He couldn't process the words. It was like hearing a joke he knew wasn't funny but he couldn't quite put his finger on how the punchline had gone wrong. "You what?"

Tony took a great, heaving breath, wracking his whole frame. He was shaking. "I'm breaking up with you," he said, firmer this time. 

"What - I - Tony -?" Steve spluttered. He felt like grabbing Tony and shaking him, he felt like hauling to his feet and running around the block at full speed. He stayed where he was. "Why? What happened at the reading? I thought you said it was cut and dry - your dad disinherited you."

Tony let out a huff that was almost a laugh. "Oh, he did. That wasn't a bluff, he really did. Not a penny. But see - and I don't know how she did it because if my dad knew he would have made her change it - but my mom left me everything of hers."

"Okay… you said she wasn't particularly well off without your dad though, what is there that - ?"

"Yeah… she wasn't. But in the crash, my dad died on impact. My mom died at the hospital, six hours later. It's pretty clear cut, and there's no one to contest it. I don't have any siblings. All my mom had to give before my dad died was a couple hundred thousand dollars, maybe, a few cars, some jewelry. But after my dad died… well, he left everything to her. She was a billionaire. For about six hours."

Heavy silence fell over the room. Steve stared up at Tony's pale, tight face. His jaw twitched and clenched. "And now you are."

"And now I am. I also own nearly a controlling interest in Stark Industries, between me and Obie, we own well more than that. And here's the other kicker, my dad never told the board he'd disinherited me. They had no idea. Obie says they'll be a meeting on Monday and I'll be voted to step up as CEO, no question, with Obie staying on as COO and my mentor."

"I… holy shit." Steve scrubbed his hand over his face as if he could push all the information in that wasn't being processed. "You own Stark Industries?"

"Essentially, yes."

"Wow. Tony, you can do everything with it that you've ever wanted. All those ideas you had, plans, now you can make them come true."

"Yes," he said, but the word was small and broken, twisted through with something that sounded an awful lot like no.

Steve's stomach flipped then cramped, his heart threatening the integrity of his rib cage. "So… why does that lead to you breaking up with me?"

"I have to move here," Tony said carefully. His eyes flicked up to the ceiling, and Steve got the distinct impression he was repeating something he'd practiced already. "The board wants me in because they want a Stark at the helm, but they won't hesitate to vote me down on the changes I want to make unless I can earn their trust. I'm going to be working long days, trying to make up on the time I missed. And I can't stay in New York. I have to move here."

"You said that…" Steve twisted his fingers together, longing to reach out to Tony but feeling for the first time in years that he didn't have the right to touch him. "I still don't get it. I can move here, if that's where you need to be, or we can do long distance if you'd rather. I don't care where I am, and I'd rather have you on a Skype call than not at all."

Tony huffed in frustration. "I'm going to have to put everything into this. I have to build a reputation, show them that I'm not too young to handle something like this."

"I don't get how you being in a committed relationship is going to ruin that." Steve watched Tony's face shift through several microexpressions. "Unless…what? It's cause I'm a guy? If your dad never told them you were cut off, he probably also never told them you date men. So that's it? You're dumping me like some college experimentation phase because you don't think the board can handle a gay man in charge? What the fuck, Tony?"

"That's not it at all!" Tony snapped out. Then he took a breath and three long strides across the carpet. He came back and landed in front of Steve. "I won't have time for you, I won't have time for this. Please, Steve. It's not a negotiation. You can't convince me to stay with you."

"But we can do this," Steve insisted. "You won't have time for me? What kind of -? We've always been busy, Tony, and we've always made time for each other. We can do this. If we love each other, we'll make it work."

Tony turned cold, empty eyes up on Steve. "Then I guess I don't love you enough. Because this is it."

Steve tried to curse, ended up breaking off a sob by slapping his hand over his mouth. His whole body felt hot and twitchy, like it was trying to crawl out of itself. 

"I'll give you the rest of the year's rent, so you don't have to -"

"I don't give a fuck about the rent!"

Tony took a step back. "I'll give it to Bucky then," he mumbled. "The jet's on standby," he went on to say, in this terrifying, overly calm way. "Whenever you're ready, they'll take you home."

"You're not even coming back to Brooklyn to get your stuff? To talk to Bucky and Clint? Shit, Tony."

"I can't. They need me here already. There's too much to sort out."

Steve lurched to his feet. "Let me stay and help you, please. Look, I know this seems like a good idea now, but people make stupid mistakes when they've lost someone, okay? Your whole life has been turned upside down, I get it, but don't ruin us over this. I can go home, if that's what you want. I'll go home, and you take a few days, weeks, even, and when you feel up to it, you call me, and we'll talk about it, okay? We can talk…"

Tony gave him a sad smile, but it had a finality about it that Steve had never seen before. Steady. Cold. "Bye, Steve."

"Tony -"

Tony turned and walked out, pulling the hotel room door shut behind him. 

Steve went home. Steve waited. 

Tony never called. 


	10. Chapter 10

####  **~~Now~~**

Steve stared at the backs of the guests in front of him and tried not to squirm. Apparently he was failing, because Nat smacked him on the arm. "You're freaking me out," she hissed.

"Sorry." Steve forced himself to still. 

The music started, and Steve lurched into motion again. At the end of the rows of chairs, he could see the officiant waiting for them. Their first few steps were too fast, but Natasha pressed back on his arm, and Steve slowed, trying to keep his steps in time with the soft music. At the end of the aisle, he kissed Nat's cheek and they stepped apart, one on either side of the officiant.

Bucky and Clint came next, choosing to walk up side-by-side since they'd been living together for years now, anyway. No one was being given or received; they were making a promise. Steve forced himself to ignore the crowd, focusing on the back of Bucky's head instead as he settled into his place, Clint's hands clasped in his. 

They'd been friends for so long, Steve couldn't imagine a life that didn't have Bucky in it. And he knew lots of people who were still friends with their bestie from high school, but no one who was still as close with them as he was with Bucky. Clint and Natasha loved each other deeply, but they'd drifted apart when Natasha moved to the west coast.

But, god, Bucky had been there for Steve from day one, keeping him from getting his ass kicked in a dingy gay bar in Brooklyn, forcing him to accept getting a roommate so they wouldn't burn through all their money and starve, being happy for him when he and Tony got together, sad for him when it fell apart. Steve knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he wouldn't have made it through all that without Bucky.

And it should hurt, maybe, to give Bucky away like this, to share him with someone else, but it didn't. It felt perfectly right. Because Clint filled in all the spaces that Steve couldn't, because Clint loved him so completely and so obviously that Steve could do nothing but bask in the glow of that love. He'd never seen anything so beautiful.

"And now, Clint and James have prepared their own vows. Clint."

Steve realized he'd missed most of the beginning of the ceremony, and he forced himself to focus as Clint began to speak.

"Hey, baby," Clint said with a grin, and Bucky ducked his head, shook it, smiling to himself. "Nine years ago I asked Steve who his friend was - nearly made him piss himself, actually, thinking I was about to start something." He turned to the crowd. "Bucky here was flirting with Natasha and I told Steve she was my girlfriend. I've never seen anyone turn so pale so fast."

The crowd laughed, and Steve shook his head, waving Clint off, laughing along with them.

Clint turned back to Bucky, and Steve could see their hands squeeze together. "I thought you were cute back then, but, god, I had no idea what I was in for. Neither of us was really the commitment type. I think we were both taken aback when a night together turned into dating turned into love. 

"Falling in love with you seemed fast, looking back, but really it wasn't. Because I'm still falling in love with you now. Every day, I sink a little deeper. I keep thinking, 'wow, that's it, that's as much love as I can feel,' and then you smile or yell at the TV or snore and nope, wait, there's more, I can go further."

"I do not snore," Bucky said petulantly, and everyone laughed again, though it sounded a bit rougher this time. Steve was deeply grateful that he'd seen the vows beforehand because even the backs of his eyes were feeling hot.

"So, I promise you, I will keep falling. I'll never try and grab hold of the edge and stop myself, as scary as it is and as wild as it is, I will keep falling deeper and deeper in love with you, Bucky Barnes. Because letting go in the first place was the best choice I ever made."

Bucky shook his head again and tugged on Clint's hands. The audience snuffled. Steve couldn't resist the urge to flick his eyes over to Tony, and what he saw made his heart stutter. Tony was staring up at Clint with all his walls down, all his emotion splashed freely across his face, and he was so  _ broken.  _ He didn't look on the verge of crying, like most of the other guests did, he looked on the verge of… something else, something scarier. Giving up completely, maybe. Steve wanted to fling himself across the grass and tug Tony in his arms and press kisses to his hair until he was okay again. 

He couldn't help but think about how close Tony had been with Bucky and Clint as well. Sure, Steve's relationship with Tony was the big one, but Bucky had been his best friend, and, later, Clint had become almost as close with him. And, sure, Tony must have new friends in LA, he'd mentioned Pepper, hopefully Rhodey was able to visit more, but Steve wasn't the only one who had lost out. He made a promise to himself that after this he'd encourage Bucky and Clint to stay in touch with Tony. If they hadn't been talking to him for Steve's sake, that had to end.

Maybe… maybe there was even a chance that he and Tony could dig some sort of friendship out of this, an email once in a while, maybe a text. A week ago, the thought of having that much of Tony and no more would have been torture, but now, it was appealing. He'd take Tony back in his life any way that he could.

"Clint," Bucky said, voice tight. "I really never thought I'd find someone." His voice was barely more than a whisper, and Steve reached out and poked him in his lower back. He cleared his throat and tried again, louder this time. "I thought I was one of those people who just… wouldn't. And I was fine with it. But then I met you and it wasn't enough. I thought about living the rest of my life without you and it wouldn't do. I'm not always good at expressing my feelings, but for you I try, because you need to know how much you mean to me. I love you. It's something I never thought I'd say, something I never thought I'd want to hear back. But love has a way of messing with all your expectations. 

"So, I promise -" he took a heavy breath "- to do everything I can to show you, every day, how much you're loved, even when it's hard for me to say, even when you've left your dirty clothes on my side of the bed again, even when it's one of those days where we both work late and we don't get to see each other. Because you deserve to know that you're my whole world."

The whole group took a shuddery, stabilizing breath after Bucky stopped talking, and the officiant smiled out at the crowd, giving them all a moment to catch their breath. 

Steve was so caught up in his feelings - for Clint and Bucky, for Tony, for everything - that he barely registered the officiant mentioning the rings. Natasha popped open her bag and took out Bucky's ring which had Steve springing into action. He found Clint's ring in his pocket and palmed it, waiting for his turn.

Clint slid Bucky's ring onto his finger, breathing out an, "oh good it fits," and setting the guests off into watery laughter again. Bucky reached back and Steve slipped the ring in his hand. He slid it on, and when they wound their fingers together again, Steve could see the twin gleams from their rings. He felt like he was flying, giddy on such an overwhelming cocktail of emotion that he wasn't sure how it all fit inside him at all.

The officiant said a few more words, Clint dipped Bucky into a kiss that set him off laughing and grumbling at the same time and then -

They were married.

Bucky turned back and caught Steve's eye before they disappeared down the aisle again.  _ Holy shit,  _ he mouthed, and Steve grinned. 

_ You did it!  _ He mouthed back.

The wedding party filed out, followed by the guests. A photographer had come up just for the day, and he urged Bucky, Clint, Steve, and Natasha away towards the dock for photographs. Steve crossed his arms, turned this way, tilted his chin, smiled, did whatever the photographer wanted, and the next hour snapped by in a heartbeat. 

It wasn't until they were marching back over to the event hall that Steve remembered the painting. He crossed his fingers in his pocket that Pietro had done what Steve had asked. 

Steve pushed open the big double doors, and, sure enough, hanging on the wall right as you came in was Steve's painting. 

He'd used a reference photo from the one overseas vacation Bucky and Clint had taken. Someone had caught the candid photo and given it to them, and it had long been their favourite couple's photo. In the photo, they leaned against a railing, with a bright blue water-and-sky combo background, hands twined together between them, smiling at each other. The photo so perfectly caught the way they looked at each other when they didn't know anyone was looking.

Steve had layered it over a background of New York, a puzzled together image of their two neighbourhoods from back when it started. The colours were soft and washed out, pieced together like stained glass with dark lines between them, but the whole painting was muted, almost faded, like it was well-worn or had been through the wash too many times. It was a style Steve hadn't done for a long time, but it was the only thing he felt did them justice.

"Holy shit," Bucky said, coming to a stop.

"I know it's unusual to have your wedding present hung up at your reception," Steve said with a smile, "but, well, congratulations."

"Oh my god, that's amazing." Clint slapped a hand over his mouth. "It's gorgeous."

Bucky reached out and grabbed Steve's sleeve with one hand. He tugged him into a fierce hug that threatened to squeeze tears from Steve's eyes.

"That paint still wet?" Bucky whispered into his ear.

Steve snorted. "Yeah. It is."

Bucky laughed, released him, then grinned at him. "I love you, man."

Steve dropped a hand to Bucky's shoulder and squeezed. "Love you, too."

"Hey. Paws off my husband," Clint said, then he burst into giddy laughter. "First time!"

Bucky gathered Clint into his arms with a wild grin and kissed him silly. 

"Come on you two," Steve said, trying to tug them into the hall. "No sex in the hallway."

"God, Stevie, you ruin everything."

"You'll thank me later."

They all gathered in the main hall for dinner. The head table was long and rectangular, up against the short wall, with circular tables dotted around the floor in front of it. One entire wall of the room was windows, with two doors out to a peaceful looking patio and garden. They'd set up the DJ table in front of the centre window, between the two doors. The food was wonderful, and Steve was sitting next to Bucky so all was well with the world. Every time he looked over at his two friends, happily married now, he felt a rush of warm, giddy joy that nearly had him laughing.

When the plates were cleared, everyone was urged out onto the dance floor, the DJ selecting some songs from their teen days to get everyone laughing and leaving their inhibitions behind. Steve floated in that happy place of soft contentment, even when Tony joined their dancing group and ended up pressed up close beside Steve. Steve let his eyes fall shut and, for just a moment, imagined that they were here together, dancing _ together _ . He breathed in the fantasy, then breathed it out again, let it go. He smiled over at Tony. It ached, but Steve really believed that someday they might be able to be friends. It would be better to have a piece of Tony than nothing at all. 

Tony smiled back.

 

####  **~~Then~~**

"Playboy billionaire and philanthropic genius inventor Tony Stark was spotted at the Maria Stark Foundation Firefighters' charity benefit this evening," the newscaster chirped. 

Steve frowned at the TV and shifted deeper into the couch cushions. It was tragic and entirely cliche, but he thought that was only fitting as he stuck the spoon back in the ice cream container then into his mouth. It wasn't his fault that ET wouldn't stop talking about Tony Stark lately; it was as if they knew.

He looked good - so good. He'd filled out a bit, no doubt access to an expensive private gym, personal trainers, and good food was a faster way to see changes than the "exercise" he and Steve had gotten up to most nights. All Tony's clothes were perfectly tailored, crisp lines over his shoulders, hugging his waist. Steve remembered the days of oversized hoodies and laundry-stained jeans. He'd have someone else doing his laundry for him now. 

The newscast cut to footage of Tony playing blackjack at the charity event. He waved at the camera and winked then leaned over to the woman seated next to him and whispered something in her ear. She laughed, batting her eyelashes at him. 

And that was the thing. Tony was fine, more than fine. His company was doing amazing things, he had a different woman on his arm every week - only women, Steve noticed - and he was always smiling, laughing, flirting in every picture, press conference, newsreel. Tony was living life to the fullest, and Steve was -

He looked into the nearly empty ice cream container. 

\- not. Barely living at all. Even a year after their breakup, it was hard to care about anything but the bare necessities. Everyone around him seemed to be holding their breath, waiting for him to suddenly snap out of it and bounce back, but instead, it felt like he was crawling his way out of a pit that kept getting deeper every time he thought he was close to the lip. 

His running shoes mocked him from the corner, not yet packed up because he "still needed them." Clint's eyeroll had suggested he was fully aware of how much bullshit was packed into that sentence. Steve's muscles ached to move, to stretch, to sweat, but his brain wouldn't let him. He hadn't run in weeks. He was out of breath just thinking about it. 

The newscast was showing old clips of Tony's press conference when he took over as CEO and Steve dug into the ice cream again. It was tasteless on his tongue, but he kept shoving it in, craving the energy burst from the sugar-rush, regardless of how crappy the downslide after would be. 

A key clicked in the lock, and Steve startled into action, heart pounding. He scrambled for the remote, tried to throw the ice cream container into the trash and wipe his face off, and ended up knocking his shin on the coffee table and crumpling down half on the floor and half on the couch, ice cream dripping over his fingers instead.

"Ow, fuck." He wrapped his fingers around his shin with a whimper. 

"This is the saddest shit I've ever seen," Bucky said from the top of the stairs. 

Steve opened his eyes and saw the two of them hovering there, Bucky sporting his "I'm about to punch someone out and I haven't decided who yet" face and Clint looking at Steve like someone kicked his favourite puppy.

"It's not -"

"If you say, 'it's not what it looks like,' I'm going to kill you," Bucky said. 

"It isn't! I - I tripped."

"You tripped and turned the TV onto the Tony Stark channel?" Clint asked, eyeing the screen with an eyebrow raised. "That's even less convincing than my uncle who said he tripped and landed inside his secretary. In her bed. Thirty miles out of town."

Steve stood and shuffled out of the living room, leg still smarting. He tossed the ice cream container then ran his sticky fingers under water, splashing some on his face once they were clean. 

Bucky appeared next to him. Steve glanced over and Clint was suddenly very busy with cleaning spilled ice cream off the couch. "Come on, Bud."

"I know, I know. It's just - it's a lot. With us leaving and our -" He choked off.

"It's okay to be bummed out around your anniversary, dude, I get it. And this is the apartment you guys fell in love in, and lived together in. I'm not judging. I'm just worried about you, alright? Last year kinda sucked, but you seemed on the mend there for a bit. New contracts… new apartment. You're excited about the new place, right?"

"Yeah, of course I am. It's going to be great. Maybe I just need to say goodbye to this place." Steve shrugged. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry." Bucky landed a hand on Steve's shoulder and squeezed. "Just tell me if you need a hand up, okay? I'll drag you kicking and screaming out of this place if I have to."

"Thanks, Buck."

"We're just having lunch and then we're going to meet the flooring people at the range. You want me to stay instead? Clint can handle a bunch of sweaty workmen on his own."

Steve snorted. "Isn't that what you're worried about?"

"Fuck, yeah." Bucky grinned. "Plus I don't want to miss them myself. But I'll stay if you need me."

"No, you go." Steve tried to look confident and sure. "I'll be finished packing by the time you get back."

"Alright." Bucky patted him on the back "Call me if you want me to come back." 

"I will."

The pair had picked up takeout, which they were happy to share with Steve, so they gathered around the coffee table - the kitchen chairs and table already at the new place - and worked their way through several pounds of wings. When the food was done, Bucky and Clint left again, taking another load of boxes with them from their room. 

Steve eyed the couch and the TV remote, but eventually, he managed to push himself up and walk to his bedroom. 

He'd almost asked Scott to trade with him so many times after Tony had left, and Bucky had found him asleep on the couch more often than not the first few weeks. Even now, a year after Tony had so abruptly ended their relationship, the room was an unintentional homage to Tony Stark. He'd left all his stuff, hadn't even sent to have any of it picked up, which Steve had spent the first month expecting any minute. 

Some of it Steve had thrown out, some of it Bucky and Scott had raided when he was out at a client meeting and thrown out themselves, but so much of Tony's things, the things that were "theirs," were still here. 

Steve kicked at the trash bag in the centre of the floor. He hadn't tackled the closet yet, afraid of what he would find there. There were layers of stuff that had built up over the years here, and several of those layers were going to be nothing but Tony.

Steve bucked himself up, shaking his head and taking a deep breath. He grabbed headphones and turned on one of the albums Clint had sent him that had come out in the last month - no memories there.

He hauled open the closet and starting spilling stuff out onto the floor. It wasn't long before his throat was tight and swallowing was hard. Tony's CDs, Tony's toold, Tony's clothes… Steve tugged a maroon hoodie out of a stack of sweaters. It was his, not Tony's, not originally, but Tony had co-opted it for sleeping in the winter not long after they got together. Steve brought it to his face, flushing at his silliness even though no one was watching, and breathed it in. 

It didn't just smell like Tony, it smelled like  _ them.  _ The way the room smelled early in the morning when Steve would kiss Tony's forehead and slip out of the room to go for a run. It smelled like late nights in front of a movie, Tony curled up against his chest. It smelled like Tony's fingers furrowing through Steve's hair, while Steve sat on the floor, leaned back against Tony's legs, sketching designs while Tony read. It smelled like home.

Steve tucked it in one of the boxes. It was his sweatshirt, after all. He wasn't going to throw out something he liked just because Tony had touched it. 

Even he wasn't quite sure he believed that excuse. 

Tony wouldn't smell like that anymore. He'd smell like expensive aftershave, champagne, and the perfume of whichever woman hung off his arm that night. Steve twirled a keychain between his fingers. Did Tony ever think about him? How did he remember Steve? Did Tony talk about him, maybe, reminiscing to his new friends about the two years he'd spent living rough with an artist in Brooklyn? Maybe he'd play it up for the chiffon and oyster crowd, making it sound all bohemian and quaint. Playing at poor. Maybe they'd laugh.

Steve threw out the keychain and added another stack of winter clothes to the box then froze. Underneath was a cardboard shoebox with a slightly crushed lid, and Steve knew what was inside. Most of the contents had nothing to do with Tony, memories over the years. Photographs of his mother, a novelty coin from the first fair he and Bucky snuck into as teens, a medal he'd won on the high school baseball team. But somewhere in there, among the memories, was a plain matte-black ring box. And inside was a simple gold band, sized for Tony's finger.

It'd been so hard to get his ring size for the jewelers, but Steve had been adamant that the ring fit the first time. It seemed a bad omen to propose and then have the ring get stuck at his knuckle or fall off the first time he opened his hand. Steve had spent a week trying to get an idea of the size of Tony's finger before he managed to get a piece of string around it while Tony slept. 

But Tony had never tried the ring on, he'd never even seen it. 

Would it have changed anything if Steve had proposed before the car crash? What would Tony had said? Maybe they would have broken up then and Steve would have been denied those last few weeks of love and happiness. But maybe, also, without the trauma of losing his parents, their breakup might have been slower, easier. Or… different anyway. They could have talked about it. 

Maybe Tony would have said yes. And then Steve would have been able to help him through his parents' death instead of making it harder. Maybe if they'd been engaged, Tony would have wanted to keep him. It didn't make sense. Steve hadn't been enough to keep Tony happy, why would he have been any better as his fiance than his boyfriend? But Steve couldn't help but wonder what could have been. 

He should have sold the ring. He should sell it now.

He packed the shoebox without opening it and charged through the rest, focusing on the look Bucky would give him if he came back tonight and Steve was sitting in a pile of Tony's stuff having yet another pity party. He could argue that finishing the ice cream only made sense since they needed to clean out the freezer anyway, but going out to buy more was definitely too far.

By the time Bucky and Clint came back for their last night in the old apartment, Steve had everything packed up and his room clean. And it did feel like a cleansing. He couldn't let go of Tony, he couldn't get over him, but accepting that was almost freeing. He'd been waiting, waiting for the pain to go away, waiting to stop missing him, yearning for him, but it wasn't going to go away. 

But he could live with it. This was a weight he could carry around with him. Sure it would suck, when Bucky and Clint and Sam pushed him to date, tried to set him up or pestered him about his love life. Sure it would suck, having to see Bucky and Clint happy together, perpetually the third wheel, see them get married some day when he never would. But Steve had lots of good things in his life. 

Giving up on love wasn't that bad.


	11. Chapter 11

####  **~~Now~~**

Steve stumbled off the dance floor and was about to collapse into a chair when he remembered he hadn't signed the guest book yet. They'd set it up on a table in the hall, under Steve's painting. He knew he was only going to get drunker and wearier as the night went on, so he'd better take the chance to sign it now while he could.

He was just finishing up the last of his message when a hand clapped him on the back. "You paint this, Steve?" Barney asked, gesturing up at the painting.

"Yeah." Steve straightened up and shifted out from under Barney's hand. He'd never liked Clint's brother. He didn't like the stories Clint told about him when they were kids, and he didn't like the way Barney treated him now.

"Nice." Barney nodded appreciatively. Steve tried to think of a reason to excuse himself, but nothing was forthcoming. "It was a good ceremony," Barney said, "all things considered."

"What do you mean by that?"

Barney gave him a pointed look. "You know. It's just a bit odd, that's all. Like, why do they have to have a wedding at all?"

Steve tensed. He flicked his eyes towards the doorway, but he'd have to shove past Barney to get there, and he didn't want to cause a scene. "Because they love each other and wanted to celebrate that with their friends and family?"

Barney shrugged. "I guess. You know we all thought he'd end up with Nat."

Steve forced his jaw to relax so he wouldn't crack a tooth. "I know. I've heard the stories."

"They would have been nice together."

"He's in love with Bucky. And Bucky loves him."

Barney put his hands up placatingly. "I know, I know. It's nice. I'm glad he's happy or whatever. I just - you know - sometimes I wonder. Cause it seemed like he and Nat were destined to make it work someday, and like, he was _normal_ til he met you and Bucky, and then -"

"You'd better watch your mouth," a voice snapped out behind them, and Steve spun to see Tony standing there, radiating anger.

"Oh, come on," Barney said. "Steve knows I'm only kidding around."

Tony's eyes flashed. "Well, I don't. And I don't like that shit. So maybe save it for when you're not at your brother's wedding."

Barney rolled his eyes. "Whatever, man." He shoved past both of them and made for the bar. 

Seeing Tony standing there, defending him with such ferocity, was like a guillotine falling on Steve's self-control. Everything he'd promised himself he'd hold together for Bucky and Clint's sake collapsed, and he was left gasping and aching with the pain of everything he'd lost. He was crazy to think they could ever be friends when Tony had no idea how badly Steve wanted him back. It was a razor-edged secret that would rip him apart every time Tony smiled at him or complimented him or defended him - every time Tony remembered, with perfect clarity, something small they'd shared so long ago. How could he possibly hold it together if Tony asked him to be a guest at  _ his  _ wedding when one of those many dates he seemed to go on finally stuck? Steve couldn't do it, after all.

"Excuse me," he muttered, pressing past Tony to make a beeline for the bathroom. He spent a few minutes staring at himself in the mirror, getting himself together, then went back out, got a glass of champagne, and chose the quietest corner he could. They'd pushed the round tables against the wall to make a dance floor, and one, in particular, was dark and secluded. He was going to hide himself away and get stupid drunk. It was a wedding after all; no one would notice.

But of course, because it was the absolute worst option possible, Tony noticed.

He slipped into the chair next to Steve's. "Sorry if that was out of line."

Steve waved a hand, dismissing Tony's apology. "Nope. That was great. Barney's an asshole."

Tony shot him an uncertain smile. "It was a lovely ceremony."

"It was." Steve could feel the tension that radiated through his words, but Tony didn't seem to notice. _Why can't you just leave me alone?_ he couldn't help but wonder. He'd been doing okay. He'd found a way to live, and now he was going to be back to square one, because Tony Stark couldn't seem to stop breaking him.

"Dinner was nice, too."

Steve breathed out through gritted teeth, his fingers clenching around the stem of his glass.

"I liked the salmon," Tony added.

Steve rocketed to his feet, screeching his chair back. "I'm sorry, I -" He took a steadying breath. "Look, Tony, I held it together for Bucky and Clint because I didn't want to ruin their day, but they're married now, and we've only got one more day together, and I just - I can't. I'm sorry. I need you to leave me alone."

Tony had reared back at his words, but now he flinched towards Steve, as if barely stopping himself from touching him. "What - What did I say? I'm sorry…" His voice trailed off helplessly.

"You didn't…" Steve shook his head as if he could shake his thoughts into order. Tony knew him too well. Only the truth would placate him. "I never got over you, okay?" He meant it to come out harsh, but the words scraped their way out of his throat and came out broken instead. "I never got over you. I was - I was _surviving,_ though, and then seeing you again - I thought I could do it, but I can't. Not anymore. Losing you broke my heart, and I couldn't find a way to put it back together again. Being around you is torture… Tony please. If you still care for me even a smidge, if you remember at all what it was like to love me… leave me be. Please?"

Steve flicked his eyes up from the floor, heart pounding in his chest, and caught a glimpse of shocked-wide eyes and an open mouth before he couldn't bear it anymore. He turned and all but ran across the ballroom to the bar. He ordered a double scotch, snatched it up, and slipped out through the big patio doors.

It was too cool out in the garden for anyone to bother coming out - the chairs by the doors inside were enough to wick the sweat off anyone who had been overheated by dancing and alcohol - so Steve had the full patio to himself. There were hard, metal chairs and tables dotted around. The sun was long down, and though there were fairy lights up, they weren't enough to do more than provide a cursory glow. Steve collapsed down into a chair, feeling the cold metal leach the heat from his butt and back immediately, and downed half his drink.

That was so _stupid._ How could he have just spewed all those words out? After all that work, all that half-lying and hiding and pretending he was okay when he wasn't, he'd ruined it all in one impassioned speech. He sighed and leaned back against the chair, tipping his chin up to watch the confused moths biff their heads against the fairy lights. Stupid…

He took the second half of his drink slower, aware that eventually he'd start to feel it. And the longer he sat there, the worse he felt. That wasn't how he wanted to end things with Tony - not yelling, not again - but he just couldn't keep his goddamn mouth in check. He leaned forward over his glass, folding his arms around it, watching the condensation on the glass slide down to the metal tabletop. If he'd kept himself together he could have said he was tired, said goodbye to Tony properly, maybe even gotten a hug, something to carry him through the next seven years. It was the ending they never had the first time around, and it looked like he hadn't learned anything in the years they were apart.

Footsteps on the patio stones made his heart skip. Warmth settled next to him. He knew those steps and that warmth without looking up.

"I do remember," Tony said softly. "I do remember what it's like to love you."

They hung in silence, Tony not speaking, Steve unable to. Here was Tony, about to give them the soft goodbye they should have had. Steve didn't want to screw it up yet again.

"Dance with me?" Tony's hand appeared in Steve's vision. "And then I'll leave you be. Forever."

He glanced up, and Tony was watching him carefully. He looked terrified but determined in equal measure, and Steve was reminded of the kid that landed on their doorstep with a wad of cash and no clue how the world worked. "Okay." He slipped his hand in Tony's.

To his surprise, Tony didn't lead him back inside. Instead, he walked over to a clear section of the patio. They were in front of the huge centre window, the one the DJ table was in front of, and though they could see in, it was too dark out for anyone inside to see them out here. Inside, suits and dresses spun around the floor in the warm, yellow light. The music spilled out of the open door on either side of them, and when Tony slotted them together, he set an easy rhythm, rocking them slowly around the patio stones. Having Tony in his arms was a beautiful torture. He felt so right there, so safe and stable. Steve wanted to clutch him closer and closer until it became impossible for them to be apart ever again.

"There's nothing I regret more than walking away from you," Tony said, face tipped down and tucked up against Steve's chest. "If I could go back and do it again, I'd never leave."

"Tony -" Steve started, but Tony shook his head, cutting him off.

"Can I get this out?"

Steve nodded. He'd said his piece, after all. It was Tony's chance to unburden.

"I was so happy back in Brooklyn, living with you two. Having you… I've never been anywhere close to that happy since. I regret leaving every day. It wasn't the right choice. I thought I needed to do this, that it was my only choice, but I know now that I made a mistake." Tony's hand twitched on Steve's waist. "I never stopped loving you. Not for a single day. I can't imagine making a bigger mistake than I did when I left you behind. Except maybe leaving again without telling you how much you meant - mean - to me."

Steve's mind blanked out. He tried to force Tony's words into a shape that fit with reality. "You told me you didn't love me anymore."

"I know." Tony choked. "I lied."

_"Why?"_

Tony stopped moving to the music but he didn't step away, hand clenching and unclenching around a handful of Steve's suit jacket. "I knew you'd move with me to LA if I didn't. I couldn't do that to you. I knew if you came, you'd lose your whole life, everything you wanted, dreamed of. You couldn't have that, not with the life I knew I was about to lead. The vision of the future - You'd always be Tony Stark's shadow, and I couldn't do that to you. You deserve to shine on your own.

"So I told you it was over, because it needed to be - or I thought it did. I thought I would let go, be able to move on, but I never did. I thought about coming back, more than once. I almost booked a plane ticket a few times. I called you, hung up when you answered. I couldn't bring myself to do it. I wanted to get back what we'd had and that wasn't possible."

"Tony…"

"And then Nat started telling me how wonderfully you were doing, how happy you were, how well everything was going. And then I _couldn't,_ no way could I barge back into your happiness and ruin everything. I thought you'd moved on, and I was destined to just… quietly love you forever."

"Oh my god." Something clenched painfully in Steve's chest, radiating down his arms, and he wondered what a heart attack felt like and if it was possible to have one at his age. He staggered back, out of Tony's hold, and Tony's fingers grasped helplessly in the air he left behind.

"I'm so sorry," Tony croaked.

"Me too, I'm sorry too," Steve rushed to say. He felt like the world was spinning faster than usual and he was struggling to keep up. "God, I'm so sorry, Tony. I - I pretended to be okay. I told Nat to tell you I was happy. I didn't want to be the broken one that was left behind while you went on and led this amazing life. I was hurt and angry and bitter. And I was scared that all I would ever amount to was your leftovers. I didn't know how to be anyone else after I'd been someone who was loved by Tony Stark." The words all tumbled out, and he didn't know if they made sense. Tony stared at him then took a tentative step close again.

"Steve?"

Steve reached out and hooked the back of Tony's neck, brushing his fingers lightly through the short hairs at his nape. Tony melted into the touch, breath coming out in a stumbling gasp.

"Tony… we're different people now." But even as he said it, he pulled Tony closer until they were wrapped in a tight hold again. "It's been seven years."

"I know. I know we are. But we're not all the way different, are we? Do you still mother hen the fuck out of everyone?"

Steve snorted. His other hand landed on Tony's hip and both of Tony's arms curled around his back. "I do. Still drives Bucky nuts. Do you still walk into things because you can't stop staring at your phone?"

"Yeah. Only now I pay people to run in front of me and move the things before I can walk into them."

Steve laughed, but it was such a release of something that it felt more like a sob. They were pressed chest to chest now, clutched close together, and Steve felt like if he let go, Tony would disappear into smoke and he'd never see him again.

"I know we're different people now, Steve, and maybe it's too late. Maybe we blew our chance and we've drifted too far apart. But… I think it's worth a shot. I want to get to know you again." He tipped his chin up, warm brown eyes meeting Steve's. And for all that had changed between them, really, nothing had. Steve touched their foreheads gently together.

"Me too."

 

####  **~~Then~~**

Bucky took the young man's hand in his and shook it. "Hi Tony, I'm Bucky. Come on in."

Steve stepped back up into the apartment as Bucky and Tony came up the stairs. Steve gave the guy an assessing once-over. He was young, worryingly young, and he was wearing a pair of perfectly tailored, very expensive-looking jeans and a brand name polo shirt. It seemed that yet again, they wouldn't have to worry about an applicant making rent; he was clearly loaded, even his watch was well out of a student's budget. Steve braced himself for whatever other horrors they were going to face instead. At this point, however, they were getting desperate.

Tony looked around politely. "Oh, nice." He stopped in front of a large canvas - Steve's early work, back when he'd been considering painting as a career choice instead of graphic design. "That's awesome."

"Uh, thanks."

Tony looked back and forth between the canvas and Steve, apparently noticing something in his expression. "Oh, did you paint that?"

"Yeah."

"That's so cool. You're an artist?"

"Graphic artist now. Or rather, studying to be one, but I still dabble in some traditional stuff."

Tony beamed up at the painting, a soft, hazy rendition of the Brooklyn bridge. "I really like it."

"Thank you." Steve stared at the kid while he stared at the painting. It was such a random thing for him to stick on, but he just stood there, staring at it.

"This would be your room," Bucky said, breezing past and pushing open the door.

Tony poked his head in, and Steve braced for the inevitable fuss. "Okay. I mean, I'm used to sleeping on a couch in a frat house so having my own room again is pretty cool." At their twin horrified looks, he quickly added, "Oh no, I didn't have to. My parents rented me this off-campus apartment when I was in - uh - last year. But it was all huge and empty, like a mausoleum, you know? I like to be around people. So I crashed on Rhodey's couch a lot. He didn't mind. But now he's in the air force, so -" Tony shrugged.

Steve got the impression that once you let Tony start talking, it was unlikely he'd stop on his own. "It's pretty quiet here. Maybe not enough people for you? We're more likely to have a few friends over than have a big party."

Tony waved his hand. "Yeah, that's fine. Just having two roommates will be busy enough."

Bucky led them back to the living room, and Tony curled up on the couch with one leg tucked under him. "So, you're a student?" Bucky asked.

"Yeah. NYU. Electrical engineering. But, uh, I'm doing kind of a special course this semester so I don't have many classes? I'll be home a lot working on my project instead. I have two classes a week but they're both in the evening. It's kind of… um… self-directed."

"A lot of my classes are like that too," Steve offered, since Tony seemed oddly uncomfortable with the idea. "Just final projects."

"Right. Yeah. It's like that."

"Are you super tidy? Cause obviously you can do whatever you want with your room, but we're not huge sticklers for organization so if that bothers you, you might not be happy here."

"Oh no, that's fine. Frat house, remember? I don't mind some dishes. I'm not like… super skilled at cleaning up after myself. But I'll learn whatever I need to. I'm a fast learner." He shrugged. "Sorry."

"What about pets?" Bucky asked.

"Pets?" Tony tilted his head to the side.

"Yeah. Do you have any pets?"

"Oh - oh!" Tony blinked at them. "I could have a pet… I mean no - no I don't have any pets. My - uh - my parents aren't really pet people so I don't even know what kind of pets I like. Do you have any pets?" He looked around as if he expected a terrier to suddenly teleport into the middle of the living room.

Steve couldn't help but laugh. "No, no we don't have any pets."

"Oh, okay. If you ended up getting one though, I like animals." He sounded almost shy about it.

Bucky smiled. "Good to know."

Steve watched Tony while Buck ran down a few more basic questions. He seemed nervous, and not in the way their other interviewees had been nervous. He seemed almost… desperate. To Steve's surprise, he found himself wanting to help him instead of turning him away. He was certainly the nicest person they'd spoken to. His parents supporting him meant he wasn't going to be a money risk, and Steve would rather put up with someone messy than someone who was going to snap at him if he didn't scrub the floors on the appropriate rota.

The other thing Steve noticed about him made him squirm a little in his seat. Tony was attractive. Really attractive. And he was kind of hitting all of Steve's buttons, physically anyway. He had a mess of dark curly hair that he kept pushing back from his face. He was lean but not skinny, flashes of carefully toned muscle popping out every time he gestured with his hands - which he did a lot. And his eyes. He had these huge, liquid, expressive eyes. Exactly the kind of eyes Steve spent hours painting when he went through his inevitable "close-up eye" phase early in his art studies. Somehow, Tony had those overdone, idealistic eyes in real life.

"There's laundry in the basement of the building," Bucky said. "It's a pretty sweet deal cause the laundromat's like four blocks over, but it's pretty busy sometimes."

Tony nodded. He had a small notebook and every now and then he jotted something down. Steve wondered what he thought of them. In all the other interviews, he'd been so put off by the idea of sharing with someone that all he'd thought about was how annoying each of those people would be to live with. But with Tony, he couldn't help but wonder, would he like living with them?

"Oh, hey, is that Street Fighter?"

"Oh yeah," Steve said. "We play a lot. You like video games?"

"Love 'em. I have a few consoles I can bring. You'd all be welcome to use them."

Bucky ended up starting up the game and tossing each of them a controller. Steve took it as a silent indication that he was liking this guy too. Or at least, as much as they could like anyone barging into their space.

"What kind of food do you like to cook?" Steve asked.

"Um… Papa Johns?"

Bucky snorted. "Charm Stevie here, and he'll cook for you. He's pretty good."

Tony smiled in Steve's direction, and Steve shot him what he was sure was a very confusing look back. Tony stayed for a couple hours then Bucky shooed him out with a promise to call before the weekend with a verdict. Bucky turned back and looked at Steve with his arms spread.

"Yeah… I mean he's the best of a bad lot," Steve said.

"He's nice."

"He's young."

"So what? So were we when we moved out." Bucky grabbed two beers and collapsed in his chair again, tossing one to Steve. "He's got money."

"Lots of them had money."

"He didn't try and hit on Lainey downstairs."

"Good point." Steve took a drink. "Really high bar you got there, Buck."

"Oh, come on. You liked him. I saw you liked him."

"I just didn't hate him. And considering I hated all the others, it just looked like liking."

"Why you gotta be so difficult, Stevie?" Bucky sighed and slouched deep in his chair.

"I'm not being difficult! We have to live with the kid. It's a big decision."

"We can't go another month without someone helping on the rent, you know that."

"Alright, then call him. Let's do it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I mean, he's a student, right? So we'll give him a year lease, and if he sucks he'll probably be looking for a new place next year anyway. You'd think he'd want to be closer to campus."

"After spending all his time in a frat house, he probably wants to play at adult for a while."

Steve conceded the point. "You don't think he seemed kind of…" he couldn't quite put his finger on it. "... lonely?"

Bucky shrugged. "Lonely is better than racist."

"Good lord." Steve knocked back the rest of his beer.

They slept on it, but by the next morning, Steve had to admit that Tony was their best choice. He took one last scroll through the applicants and conceded. Bucky called Tony that afternoon and offered him the place, and a week later, Tony moved in.

Steve watched him unloading his boxes, heart sinking. He wasn't looking forward to sharing.

Oh well, he just had to suffer through it for one year, and then Tony would be out of his life forever.


	12. Chapter 12

####  **~~Now~~**

Tony shivered and Steve tugged the blanket tighter around their shoulders. The sun was just breaking across the horizon, and any minute now its rays would touch them and warm the wooden steps where they sat. Birds filled the trees, trilling and chirping. The water lapped at the boat, rocking it up and down with a gentle thudding.

Steve was tired - he was getting a bit old for an all-nighter - but he was exhilarated too, high on Tony. They'd been here for hours, talking, and Steve's butt was starting to fall asleep, but he wouldn't move, not yet. There was still so much more to say.

They'd started off light, careful. Tony told him about his most recent projects, about his friends, his home. "Pepper, she's incredible. I couldn't function without her," and, "JARVIS, my AI. He runs the house. Saves me a lot of time and heartbreak."

Steve told him about his business, "Mostly website work, but some logo design and stuff too. We helped a local school with a mural project. That was really cool," and, "I still live with Bucky and Clint, but we moved. Just down the street from the range now. It's a walkup still, but it's two stories so I don't have to listen to them going at it like rabbits two doors down."

Tony smiled. "Turnabout is fair play, I guess?"

Steve was rocketed back to all the times Bucky had banged his fist on the wall, loud enough that they could hear it, even with Tony's empty room between them. They would laugh and start their overdramatic moaning and thumping just to get him back. It wasn't until Scott had moved in that they'd conceded that particular battle. 

"Sure is." Steve smiled and watched a bird dip low over the water. They'd been skirting around their time together, but Steve hummed now, with a need to know: was this really going to be something? Could they really start over? "God, I've missed you," he let slip.

Tony turned his eyes from the lake up to Steve then tipped down until his forehead rested against Steve's shoulder. "Me too. So much. This is okay, right?"

"Yes. It's - it's perfect."

"I know it should feel weird, and I guess it kind of does feel weird. But it also feels perfectly normal to be close to you, like no time has passed at all."

Steve rubbed his knuckles down Tony's thigh, along the outside seam of his pants. "I know what you mean. I guess maybe it was inevitable that this would happen, as soon as we were together again."

"Soon?" Tony laughed. "I've been in agony all week! How is that soon?"

"Well, compared to seven years apart," Steve said cheekily, "seven days isn't so bad."

"It was pretty bad for me." Tony settled closer against Steve's shoulder, his warm weight solid and comforting.

"I haven't dated much at all since then," Steve blurted out. "A couple movies maybe, here and there. People tried to set me up, and sometimes I just went with it." Steve took a breath. "I know it's not been the same for you."

Tony looked up sharply. "I haven't dated at all."

"What? Tony, I don't mind, but… I mean, I've seen you. Everyone has seen you. I don't care. As long as you're single now."

"I mean it, Steve, I haven't dated. I am single, I've been single since that hotel room in LA. I take people out, sometimes, it's expected of me. Social grease, or whatever. I have to have someone on my arm for every event. And of course, it took Obie turning out to be a scumbag for me to come out and bring guys as well. And sometimes, sure, I brought someone home. But it wasn't dating. It never felt like dating to me. It never crossed my mind that I might ever see any of them again. I didn't want to meet someone that I'd want to see again. Because you were it for me. How could I justify it, anyway? After what I said to you? So, yeah. I don't date. I don't have boyfriends - or girlfriends - not since you."

"Oh, Tony…" Steve coughed to hide the painful breaking of his voice then added, "I'm single too, by the way, I don't know if I made that clear. There's no one for me either."

"Well, I know that  _ now." _

What?"

"I thought Sam was your boyfriend," Tony mumbled at the ground. "That's why I didn't like him."

Steve snorted then slapped his hand over his mouth as if he could shove it back in. "Oh my god, really?"

"Everyone called him your partner! I didn't realize they just meant business partner. He showed up, and you hugged him like you were a drowning man and he was a life preserver. You spent the next day glued at the hip. What was I supposed to think?"

"He's one of my best friends, and my business partner, Tony. We're really close. But not that close. Also, he's one of the few people here who never knew you. I kind of needed that."

"It wasn't until I found out he had a girlfriend - wife, whatever - that it clicked."

"At the fire."

"Yeah."

"That's what you meant about a second chance at a first impression with him."

"Yeah. I mean, it was bad enough when I was hating him for having what I wanted but when it turned out he didn't even have that? Then I felt really awful."

"If it helps, I think he was so busy trying to hate you in defense of me that he didn't notice." 

Tony grimaced at the ground, scuffing his toe in the dirt.

Steve dropped his voice low and soft. "I don't talk about you that way, you know. I mean I don't badmouth you to people. Sam's always been protective, but Bucky and Clint? And Scott? They all still love you. I never wanted to turn anyone against you."

"You could have. I mean, it would have only been the truth. I abandoned you. I abandoned everyone here."

"Tony…" Steve finally couldn't go any longer without asking. "What happened that morning?"

Tony ran both hands back through his hair, scratching at his scalp. "Yeah…"

"It's okay if you -"

"No. No, it's not okay. It's not okay that I made that decision unilaterally, it's not okay that I never told you the details of what happened or why I broke up with you. It's not okay, Steve. Don't say it's okay."

"Well, it's not like I'm not desperate to know. But you don't have to tell me right now. We don't have to cover everything tonight."

"This is the only thing we  _ have  _ to cover. Because I'm going to ask if I can see you again, if we can be a part of each other's lives again, and I can't do that in good conscience if you don't know why I broke up with you."

It was true, really. As much as Steve was terrified to hear the truth, finally find out why Tony had decided Steve wasn't enough for him, he needed to know before this went any further. What if nothing had changed? What if he still couldn't be the man Tony needed? At least, it seemed, they could maybe be friends. It would be easier now that Tony knew how it felt. "Yeah, okay."

Tony was silent for a long time, and Steve let him stare out at the dappled lake. Then he took a breath and began. "I was stunned when they read out the will to me. It was the last thing I expected. It never occurred to me, first, that my mom would outlive my dad, second that my dad would leave everything to her, and lastly that she'd have the guts to keep me in her will when my dad could so easily find out. But Obie was there, and he talked me down from sheer panic. He took me out of the lawyer's office and got me a coffee and sat me down.

"He told me how this was a silver lining, a blessing in disguise. He told me the board would vote me in, no question, especially with his backing, and together we could turn the company into something good again. He knew I had ideas. We used to talk about them before my dad kicked me out. He painted this vision of Stark Industries being everything I ever wanted. That I could use my genius to change the world for the better."

Tony stopped and took a few steadying breaths, and Steve reached out and took Tony's hand in his, winding their fingers together tightly when Tony clung to him. "I told him that was what I wanted - it really was! - and he was so excited. He said I should send for my things, that I could move into one of my parents' houses for now, and I could build or buy whatever I wanted once I was here. My head was spinning. I told him I couldn't move, I lived in New York with you. Couldn't I run the company from there?

"He seemed genuinely sad to disappoint me. 'Ah, no, Tony, my boy. I'm afraid for at least a little while, you're going to have to be here. The board all moved here to be close to your father, close to the headquarters. If you up and relocate everyone as your first move…. Well. It won't go over that well.' Okay… I accepted that. I'll move to LA and take Steve with me. You could do your design work from anywhere. And I have a private jet now! I can fly you and Bucky and Clint back and forth to see each other. No problem."

Tony turned to face Steve now. "So he asked me about you. He knew, of course, why my dad kicked me out. He was one of the very few who did. And I always assumed he agreed with my dad. So I squared up and told him, 'I'm in love. My boyfriend's name is Steve. If I'm coming, he's coming with me.'"

Steve's heart clenched in his chest. Tony had stood up for him? For them? How had it gone from that to "I want to break up with you"? "What'd he say?"

"He said he was happy for me," Tony spat. "He said it was wonderful that I'd found love, that I hadn't let my father's bias cut me off from that happiness. But then he got sad again. He sat me down, and he told me a story.

"'I was there at the beginning,' he said. 'I was there when your father met your mother and they fell in love. It was good then. It was good for years.' Then the company starting getting bigger and bigger. The weapons contracts outweighed the other projects so the scope was narrowed. Howard's role shifted more and more from inventor to business man. He worked later and later. He drank more and more. He came home and they fought. Obie said he didn't know a single board member who hadn't cheated on his wife. He said he knew three who hit their children. And one of them was my father. He said Howard wasn't a bad man, but you can't have this and family. It's just too much for one person."

"Oh my god, Tony." Steve could barely breathe. He felt like his childhood asthma was back, squeezing his lungs in iron bands.

"He painted this picture of all the ways I would abuse you, of all the ways being stuck with me would ruin your life. I was destined to be a drunk. I was destined to work too hard. I was destined to be a cheater and a liar and a cad. And you would have nothing of your own. How could you start a business when you were tied to my name? You couldn't advertise, the paparazzi would hound you if you put your name out there. And you couldn't work for SI without cries of nepotism, favoritism. You'd never be anything more than my arm candy, and you're worth so much more than that. 

"And I knew it was all true because I'd watched it happen once before. I'd seen my mom fight her way through a crowd of photographers just to buy groceries. I'd seen her throw out lipstick-stained shirts instead of washing them. I'd seen her pour all the booze down the sink more than once only to face a screaming match when he eventually came home. Obie knew exactly what to say, which buttons to push. It was the future I had always been terrified of, money or no."

Steve's ears started ringing, and he gripped the edge of the step, worried he was going to tumble right off the edge.

"But he offered an escape. If I let you go, if I moved to LA on my own, I could have everything else. I could have money, SI, safety. I could turn the company into what I knew it could be. I could save you from a life that would destroy you. He said, 'men like us weren't made to love, Tony, we were made to lead. Leave Steve to his life and come lead the future with me.'"

"That's horrible," Steve managed to choke out. He thought he might be sick. How could someone who claimed to care for Tony, love him like family, abuse him so horribly? It wasn't like Steve could be sure he'd been the path to Tony's happiness, but surely it had been Tony's choice to make? "You listened to him…" He tried not to make it sound accusatory but Tony winced.

"I did. I went for a long walk and it all mushed up in my head. I was already caught in this bizarre tornado of confusing grief - I  _ hated  _ my father, but it still hurt that he was dead and I couldn't figure it out. He hit me when I was weak, and I caved. I didn't know how to say no, didn't know that I could."

"But  _ why?"  _

"Two reasons, I think. I asked him, later, but I never really got a straight answer. The first was that he wanted to control me, and I was easier to control if I was alone, if no one had my back. The second was that he was as much of a bigoted asshole as my father. He knew the board wouldn't be comfortable that I was with a man, and it was vital that I take my position and keep my shares. He would be stuck in a catch-22 if I came out. If he supported me, then the board would turn on him too. If he supported homophobia, and the board turned on me, he knew there was a chance I'd sell my shares to someone else and he'd lose his shot at controlling interest. He needed the board on his side, and me in his pocket."

"I - I thought he was your dad's friend, your family. Why would he do all of that?" Hot rage flushed through Steve's veins and his entire body tensed. "And where the fuck is he now?"

"Really?" Tony turned confused eyes on Steve. "Huh. I guess Pepper was right."

"What?"

"She said we'd be able to keep it out of the news. I figured everyone would know even if they wouldn't say anything. Two years ago Pepper - my PA, amazing person, runs my whole life - caught him embezzling. She told me. I went to him, told him we didn't have to involve the police, he could just retire quietly and I'd pay him out and let him go. Guess I shouldn't have said that while he was still named in my will because he tried to have me killed."

"Are you  _ kidding me?"  _

"Nope. He's in jail now." Tony's hand came up and rubbed across his chest. "Left a heck of a scar though. You really didn't hear about this?"

"No… I didn't. People don't know about that, Tony. I watch - I mean, I see the news about you. No one knows."

"Huh. Well…" Tony trailed off. "That's about it, I guess. But… it wasn't just him, you know? Not that I'm excusing what he did. He's a vile piece of trash who used and gaslighted me for years to get his own way, but the fears were already there, he just played on them. That chink was already in my armour. He found it and shoved the knife in."

"I had no idea you felt that way. None at all."

"I thought if I ignored it hard enough, it would go away. You saw hints of it. The occasional bout of drinking alone, pushing you away. I guess I was waiting for it to hit like a door slamming shut. I was young. I didn't really get that that kind of thing is a slow burn, an insidious trickle. I thought one day I'd just wake up my father and you'd see me for what I was and turn me away."

Silence fell between them. Steve knew he had to say something, but what on earth could he say? "I bought a ring."

"What?" Tony jerked back, eyes wide. He'd reclaimed his hand at some point during his story, and Steve's felt cold and empty now.

"I bought a ring. Shortly after you defended. I watched you that night at the dinner party, and I just knew I wanted to be with you forever. So, I bought a ring. I was about twenty hours from getting up the courage to ask you to marry me when you got the phone call."

"But…" Tony blinked at him. "That was the day after I flaked on you, embarrassed you in front of our friends, drank like forty dollars worth of booze and made you clean me up and put me to bed. You still wanted me after that?"

"Of course I did. I told you I did. Was I really not clear? I tried to show you every day how much I loved you, Tony. I guess I failed at that."

"You didn't. You didn't fail. I just… wasn't listening. I couldn't - I was still waiting for the punchline. For the other shoe to drop." Tony's hand slipped into Steve's again, and he clutched it close to his chest.

"There was one way I did fail you, though," Steve said.

"How?"

"I let you go. I didn't fight. I didn't call. I didn't chase you down and demand to know how you could so casually destroy what we spent two years building brick by brick. I knew you were emotionally compromised at the time, I knew there was no way it could be a rational decision - maybe it was one you ultimately did want to make, but it wasn't one you should've made in the heat of the moment like that - but I didn't fight you on it. I just gave up. And that wasn't fair to either of us. You were hurting and scared and your whole life was being tipped upside down. And even if you didn't want to be with me like that anymore, I still should have been there for you, as a friend, at least."

"Oh, Steve. Only you could blame yourself for taking it seriously when you get dumped horrifically at a funeral. I don't blame you for that. Or, I forgive you, if that's what you need to hear."

"I forgive you too, Tony. For all of it. I know there's still a lot to talk about, and I can't promise I won't be mad sometimes, that I will always handle this hurt and this pain with perfect poise, but you're worth it. I never stopped loving you. And knowing this now doesn't change anything. Except -" Steve's voice dropped into a low growl "- maybe that I should never be left alone with Obadiah Stane unless you want me in jail too."

Tony ran his thumb in soothing circles over the back of Steve's hand. After a moment, he brightened. "I learned to cook!"

Steve laughed. "Really?"

"Yeah. I hired a chef to cook for me, but then I just kept bugging him until he explained what he was doing. I think he was worried that he'd teach himself right out of a job, but really, I think it just reminded me of you. I'm pretty good now." Tony shuffled where he sat. "I'd love to cook for you sometime. Show you what I learned."

"I'd love that." Steve's heart leapt at the thought of seeing him again, of having a date like that. It felt like he imagined skydiving would feel.

Tony was quiet for a long time. When he spoke again, his voice was soft, pained. "If I could go back, I'd give it all up for you. I'd sell my shares, sell the houses, dump the money into charity or something. I'd keep just enough that we could get a little house upstate. Change my name to yours and tell the press Howard never had a son."

"Too late for that now." Steve watched the sun peak up over the horizon. "But maybe not for other things…" 

"I really hope so."

"You know," Steve said, "no matter what happens, I can't tell you how happy it makes me that when I leave I'll know that I can call you and you'll answer. That, at the very least, we can talk again. It means the world to me."

"Here. Give me your phone."

Steve handed Tony his phone, and he hit the contacts first, entering about six different numbers in under his own name, the first of which was "Private Cell." Next he went to the alarm function and added a recurring one for ten pm every evening with "Call Tony" as the note. He handed it back.

"What's the alarm for?"

Tony's cheeks flushed with a light dusting of pink, and Steve had to resist the urge to kiss them until they were burning. "Pepper and JARVIS always make me take a break around 7pm, whether I want to or not. There's a whole protocol set up. That's 10pm your time. So, you know, you don't actually have to call me, of course not, but if you want to and you're ever, I dunno, shy about it or something? That alarm will remind you that I want you to. That I'll have my phone ready just in case. I'm kind of afraid that when we're apart again, we'll fall back into old habits of being too scared to talk to each other."

"I'll call," Steve assured him. "I want this too badly to let being afraid stop me. Thank you for this." He waved his phone. "I'll call."

They fell into comfortable quiet, bathing in the morning warmth as the sun finally reached their step.

"I'm moving back to New York," Tony said finally, breaking the long silence.

"What? Tony you can't do that for me -"

"I'm not," he said firmly, and Steve believed him, to his surprise. "I'm not. You're icing on the cake, but I've never been happier than when I lived there, and I still love it. There's an SI branch in Manhattan, I can relocate pretty easily. Honestly, I would have done it a long time ago except I knew it'd bring me too close to you, that I wouldn't be able to stay away. So, I'm going to move back home and maybe… maybe…"

He didn't have to finish the sentence, Steve gathered Tony up in his arms and pressed their foreheads together for a moment before dipping into a soft, easy kiss, Tony's chilled nose brushing against his, lips moving in tandem with seven-year-old, yet perfectly uneroded muscle memory. "Yes," Steve said, answering the question Tony hadn't asked. "Yes."

When they parted, Tony stared up at him in equal parts terror and wonder. "How do we know it's not just going to be last time all over again?"

"We don't." Steve brushed Tony's hair back from his face and thrilled when Tony leaned into the touch. To get to touch him again - "But we're older and wiser now."

Tony grinned. "Well… older maybe." He brushed his fingertips against the corners of Steve's eyes. "You have laugh lines."

Steve's mouth fell open. "How dare you!" He drew Tony back against him, practically in his lap and kissed him until he was laughing. "Not so unaffected by time yourself there, mister." Steve smoothed his thumb along Tony's jaw. "I think it's working in your favour though."

"You really want to give this a second chance?" Tony asked, nearly breathless.

Steve held him close, hands wandering in the all the ways he'd been desperate to all week and couldn't. He'd never stopped loving Tony, never stopped wanting him, flaws and all. After seven years apart, it'd be easy to remember only the good times, but he didn't. He remembered their fights. He remembered the times Tony flaked on him, the times he drank too much and Steve had to pour him into bed. He remembered when Tony spent all his money and Steve had to pay his portion of the utilities. He wanted that back too. He wanted _ Tony  _ and everything that came with that _. _ He bent down for another soft, chaste kiss. "Yes, Tony. I do."


	13. Chapter 13

**~~Later~~**

Steve wafted his feet back and forth, swirling the cool lake water between his toes. The sun beat down on the back of his neck, springing up beads of sweat, but the fresh water was a pleasant contrast. He'd rolled his jeans up to the knee but they were already darkening with the splashes he'd generated, kicking his feet off the edge of the dock like a kid. He squinted up at the clear blue sky and smiled.

The dock wobbled and lips pressed against his overheated neck. "You're going to burn, love."

"I'm wearing sunscreen." Steve tipped his head back until Tony's face blocked out the sun. 

Tony kissed him gently then sat beside him on the dock, dropping his feet in the water without bothering to roll up the hems of his no doubt thousand dollar suit. He'd already shucked his tie and his jacket, and the sleeves of his crisp, white shirt were folded up to his elbows, a streak of what looked like pink crayon already marring one shoulder. 

"You just get in?" Steve asked. 

"Yup."

"Where's Cassie? I figured you'd be on niece and nephew lockdown for a while before I'd get you to myself." Steve kissed him again. "Not that I'm complaining."

"Get this -" Tony tucked himself up under the arm Steve was leaning back on "- Wanda, Viz, and Pietro took Cassie, Thomas and William, plus the entire Barnes-Barton clan into town to play at the splash pad and get ice cream."

"Are you serious?"

"Yup." Tony popped the "p" with a grin on his face.

Steve blinked out at the water. "What if they lose one?"

Tony waved a hand dismissively. "Pff. I've got them all lojacked."

Steve considered that for a moment. "Are they bringing back ice cream for all of us?"

"They'll only have room for it if they leave one of the kids behind."

Steve shrugged. "It's not like there aren't enough of them to go around. Wanda and Viz have twins, they won't miss one, right?"

"Can't see why they would."

Steve watched Tony gaze out at the water, placid smile on his face. Steve couldn't keep a silly grin off his own. "I'm glad you're here."

"Me too." Tony leaned in for another kiss. "Wish I could have made it up with the rest of you yesterday."

"Me too, but I'm glad you're here now. And we have a whole weekend to make up for lost time."

"Mmm," Tony hummed. "We're good at doing that."

"We sure are."

Tony reached across Steve's lap so he could take Steve's left hand in his. He spun Steve's ring around his finger, and Steve watched as the movement made Tony's glitter in the sunlight. Tony had moved to Manhattan two months after Clint and Bucky's wedding, just like he'd promised. It had been six more months of dating before Steve had moved into Tony's penthouse condo with him. It was bittersweet, saying goodbye to living with Clint and Bucky, but they were married now, and had already been hoping to start a family, and it seemed like the right time to give them their space. It didn't stop Tony and Steve from being there almost every weekend, though.

It was nearly four years before Steve brought out the ring again. They talked about it, sometimes, and he knew Tony was amenable, but neither had felt like they needed it. They were committed. They also knew it wasn't any kind of protection or guarantee. They'd been committed last time and it still fell apart. Loving each other, making promises, it wasn't always enough. So they'd waited. But as time went on, Steve found himself wanting it more and more. Whenever Tony wore his clothes, it surged up something warm and possessive and satisfying in Steve, and he wanted that feeling all the time, wanted to be able to look at Tony's hand and see his promise there.

So one day he dug through the boxes in the storage closet until he found the old battered shoebox that had made its way to Bucky and Clint's and then been ignored again. He dug around until he found the ring box and popped it open. The ring was still inside, cheap and simple, but inexorably theirs. He thought about getting a new one, a fancier one, now that he had the money, but then he remembered how much Tony had treasured that watch and he hoped this would be the same.

Steve didn't propose, didn't get on one knee and say a fancy speech about how much Tony had changed his life, changed him. How no matter what happened, he would always belong to him. Instead, he set the ring box on the nightstand next to Tony's side of the bed. Tony would pick it up when he was ready, and Steve was willing to wait, as long as that took.

It took three weeks.

Steve came back from work one day to find the ring box had moved. It was on his nightstand now, and it was open and empty. Next to it, sat another box, identical except that it was closed. Tony lay in their bed, sprawled out on top of the covers in a full suit, completely asleep at three in the afternoon. Steve smiled at him, watching his chest rise and fall softly. He must have come home early to beat Steve there and sleep had overtaken him. 

Steve lifted the matching box and popped it open. Nestled inside was a simple, gold band. Not a twin to the one Steve had bought for Tony, but somehow matching nonetheless. Steve pulled it out and slid it on. It fit perfectly.

He crawled into bed and drew Tony into his arms, making him grumble and fuss at being awoken, until he remembered why he was there. He lifted Steve's hand to examine it and smiled when his eyes fell on the ring. "Marriage, huh?" he said, voice muggy with sleep.

"Or just like this, this is enough for me. I would like to call you my husband, though."

"That -" Tony punctuated his words with a deep kiss "- sounds lovely."

They wore their rings for nine months without making it more official. By the time they actually gathered some friends and went to city hall, the tabloids thought they'd already been married for nearly a year so it was easy to keep it out of the press. 

Steve was sure he'd never get tired of calling Tony his husband.

Tony spun Steve's ring again, tilting it in the sunlight. The water lapped around their legs. "Almost our five year anniversary," he said softly.

"Ten, if you count living together."

"Seventeen if you count loving each other."

"I always do." Steve grinned at him.

"Sap," Tony accused, elbowing Steve's ribs.

"For you, yup."

Tony tipped his chin up to the sky, letting his eyes fall shut. He basked in the sun while Steve basked in his closeness. "I'm glad Bucky and Clint decided to come back here for their ten-year. It's a lot less stressful this time around."

"God, last time was awful, wasn't it?"

"I thought I was going to implode just from being around you." Tony leaned his head on Steve's shoulder. "I didn't sleep at all the night you let me share your room."

"What? _ Really?  _ I was sure you were asleep." Steve laughed. "I didn't either. I was - uh - kind of staring at the back of your head all night."

Tony snorted. "Thank god I didn't roll over. I thought about it, it was all I could think about, but what if you were awake and our eyes met? Fuck, it was so stupid."

Steve pressed a kiss into Tony's hair. "It was something we had to go through to get here."

Tony grinned. "You would say that. Here is pretty worth it, I will admit that."

"Here is pretty great."

Tony flapped a foot in the water, soaking the leg of his pants even more. "So what should we do for our ten-year?"

"Have a very large, very extravagant, and very expensive party and bail after ten minutes. Because I'm still getting angry messages from people who feel scammed out of getting to go to a huge Stark wedding."

Tony laughed, light and carefree. "Sold. Maybe I can hire some actors who look like us and we won't have to go at all."

"Yes." Steve bumped Tony's foot with his underwater. "See, I knew marrying rich was a good move."

"Golddigger."

"You like me being your kept man."

"I'd like it more if you agreed to the outfits. Anyway, you're not a kept man, you have a job."

Steve rolled his eyes. "I have a hobby that pays sometimes."

"You're happy with that though, right? Cause I can -"

"Yes, Tony, of course. Of course, I'm happy. I like getting to pursue my art on my own terms, and I love that I can give all the big clients to Sam so I never have to feel like we're fighting over them. It's good. It works."

"Okay, good." Tony twisted his fingers together, shifting on the dock. "Cause there's actually something I wanted to talk to you about that's kind of in that ballpark."

Steve braced himself. It wasn't often that Tony was nervous to tell him something, but he was now, and that made Steve nervous. "Okay…"

"So, I've been talking to some people, um, mostly Pepper. And the board. And I - uh how would you feel about me stepping down as CEO sometime in the next two years?"

Steve leaned back to get a better look at Tony's face. "What?"

"Yeah… I've been thinking about it for a while now. I don't want to miss our time together. I hate it every time I have miss one of the kids starring in a play or a flute recital or something. Don't want to lose my title as world's coolest uncle."

"Not possible," Steve said with a chuckle. "But Tony… that's your company. You've worked so hard for that -"

"I won't be retiring, not entirely. Come on, babe, you know me better than that. I'm going to step down as CEO and take another position, President or something. Or Supreme Inventor. That sounds good. I'll step to the side, get out of the day-to-day running stuff, and go back to just building. I can do a lot more of that from home, too."

"Who will take over?"

Tony grinned. "Pepper."

Steve couldn't help but smile back. "Good choice." He drew a line over the back of Tony's hand with one finger. "You sure you want this?"

"It's exactly what I want."

Steve's smile broke into a brilliant grin. He was so proud of Tony for what he did with SI, almost painfully proud, but running the company was clearly wearing him down. Some of Tony's fears about his future weren't entirely unjustified. He did work too much, and sometimes he did drink too much. But he also listened. When Steve pointed it out, he tried, he always tried. And he'd never not been there for him when Steve needed him, never not been there for their family. "I think that sounds amazing," Steve breathed. "I'm never going to say no to more of you."

"Thank you." Tony pulled him into a kiss. He sighed and leaned back on his hands again, feet paddling back and forth in the water. "Seventeen years, huh?"

"Yup." Steve hooked an arm around his neck and tugged him close until they were wrapped around each other. He kissed the side of Tony's face then bent to touch his lips to his ear. "Here's to seventeen more."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [heavy hope](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16915146) by [nasa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nasa/pseuds/nasa)




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